~The pleasant earthly smell after rain~
Like broken glass, from leaking gas;
Was the state of her carbon converter,
Inside a mass, lain quietly on grass;
Whose breath is under an oscillator.
Recycled like plastic, stretched like elastic
Till the red waterway could take no more,
Ears ringing of static, Calcium throbbing-ecstatic;
A young volcano, intensely burning in the core.
Then lain in Her bed, Sapphire left for dead.
Her eyes they swell, Her eyes they pour.
Strained in the head, trauma She was fed,
But all that's left of Her is Her petrichor.
YOU ARE READING
Whiffs Of NostAlgiA
Poetry...memories , memories, memories.. that's all they are now isn't it...
