It's like dancing in the rain,
The laughs,  indeed are contagious but hysterical,
Because this field has  always had a drain,
And the exhaustion, just isn't quite the same,
Now that the weather's no longer that dancing type of rain,
Rather the boiling type of heat that brings both your head and your feet pain,
But I still hear the laughs, contagiously waterlogged in unbearable ways,
contagious and hysterical, but it still makes me linger near the sight the same
because the water trickles down there still without the rain,
Somewhere below the heat I still hear them together and maybe in that there's solace,
As patiently I dry up waiting in hopes next season floods this field's the storm drain,
Because Down there are all the things my own two feet mashed down the drain,
giggling and splashing something contagious and hysterical,
while I have dried out a few tears to feed the continually waterlogged laughter of both my pride and my shame.
Logically how long is it before it actually rains hard enough to flood what I've lost to a strange fields drain