Stupid Rules


Barefoot and free,
she toddles and trips along.
Milky gray skies pour in as September dawns.
She and I, we're floating between warm and cool days.
She, between crawling and stepping through the grass blades.
I hold Willow's hand as she places a little foot forward,
again and again,
and we break all the rules.
Throwing dirt, digging through mulch, splashing puddles,
yelling loud, and enjoying the cold rain drops fresh on our skin.
Some rules are stupid and
this world is ours.