POKE AND MISS

As I watch this little girl

Who jumps up and about

Her focus sharp

In these tiny bubbles that floats

Towards her.

She pokes some,

misses some

And feels delightful

all the way.

Nostalgia strikes me.

And I realize

The fun I had doing this same thing once.

Growing up

I had somewhere lost the fun of doing things

For the sheer pleasure of it

We no more celebrate the pokes and misses together

We no more thrive in the process of things

We need pokes & things instantly

And fall flat to the ground with one tiny miss

And forget there are so many bubbles floating out there

And the joy is in the game.