Petrichor

Ink-blue sky and thundering clouds

A bolt of lightning through the din

The patter of raindrops on freshly mowed grass

And there- the earth’s speaking back.

 

He’d looked beautiful in the rain

His hair sticking to his lovely face

The heavens were exulting in our joy

Petrichor- I remember vividly.

 

That delicious aroma of freshly baked bread

That whiff of wine ages old.

Can come not near the sensuous scent

Of the earth speaking back to the rain.

 

He’d kissed me first in the rain

His hair sticking to his lovely face

And as he took me in his arms

Petrichor- I remember vividly.

 

Tales of flowers and fables of trees

And the myriad madrigals of moths and bees

A mighty epic subtly put

That’s the earth speaking back to the rain.

 

Suddenly, he drew away in the rain

His hair sticking to his lovely face

He disappeared, leaving me in his wake

Petrichor- I remember vividly.

 

That tang of home, that pang of love

Of soulful firsts and farewells

Petrichor- I remember vividly

That’s the earth speaking back to the rain

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About meenavid

Pensive thinker. Jumping bean. Loud thoughts. Loudmouth. Extreme. Ordinary. Twenty and something but what the heck, still a kid. Make a happy mess everywhere- or not. Indecisive. You see? Sigh.

Make a mess

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