myrandompoems

As the glass fogged up and the rain poured down, I felt the most childish I've felt in a long time.

The middle grader persona has it's tolls and it's restrictions, meaning you cannot draw on fogged up windows.

But this one.

It had the perfect timing.

The bus was not silent, but it had murmurs, that filled the air with a certain familiar warmth.

The little girls giggles reminded me of my own when I was six.

The window looked at me curiously, as if asking me ,' what's wrong in drawing on me? Whats wrong in being childish'.

It lured me towards it, and my hand touched the window pane.

I drew as if instinctively, a ballerina, as I had done when I was in year 1 .

The rain continued to pour down, and I watched as the drops glided down the large window as if skateboarding.

But oh! How gracefully one of them glided. On it's path, it joined with another.

It greeted the other as if old friends and continued on it's path, now somewhat merged with the second.

It didn't do much else, just dance from here to there, until it reached the window ledge, where it perched it's self precautiously.

And continued to do so until school was just around the corner, at which point it became depressed with the boredom that surrounded it, and said au reviour to it's friend.

It seprated itself, and made its way down and down in a spiral.

I don't know what happened after that .

Whether it saw anything fun that caught it's attention.

But I loved every part of it's journey . The innocence and childishness filled in it .

How I longed to be that carefree now...