The Sad Optimist

I am an optimist
Who sometimes wanders off
And stares into puddles
On sunny days.

And on days under umbrellas
Cries along with the skies
Until the plop of fresh drops
Brings a half smile.

Sadness and I are not foes,
We cordially shake hands
In passing by and I wear
His bits of blue like bracelets
To clash with the sunlight
And make it brighter.