Soaked
in the blissful blessing of showers
In the twinkling of an eye
The glistening pearls cascading upon on us
Sprinkling
Of a tap left unturned
Sparkled
Under the light cast by the street lamps
Darkness, when souls rest
Yet so incandescent when spirits play

The carousel spins, twirls, revolves
While the little apparition perches herself on the pavement
and stares with her chin on her palms

The twirls the dancer makes as
she throws herself backwards
The tap of her dainty pretty feet
Smoothing out the syncopation

Until the apparition lifts herself to her feet and lands quite promptly on the ground and pretends a little pousette and tips her toes and does a swift pirouette –
all in a swift minute.

And with a thud,
She lays on the tarmac
Flat out.

It is a trick of the mind.
The eyes do not see
The ears do not hear
The skin does not feel.

When does the rain cease?