poetry & things

Only a storm

When you come home

bring forth a garden, a storm

all the colors of you

a flower petaled rain befalls me

a soaking, sweeping view

from mountains you come

calmly with rain

deep from earth’s core

sweet with petrichor

encircling softly warm

attracts me magnetically

stupefies me uncontrollably

though I know the killing hour

will come crushing, empty and forlorn.

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