Rough, rogue steps parade on my face,
Scalding every molecule of mine.
The pursuit of worldly affairs of thine
Propounds annihilation
Of beatific moments,
Of tranquility and stillness,
For in the calmest of spaces,
We think and therefore breakaway.
Then comes the rain;
A period of freshness,
Conquers our lives and my body,
Allowing mortals to hair and gaze skywards.
A series of droplets soothe my cheeks,
Deep, sluggish kisses softening the surface.
Summer doldrums get dissolved from
crevices into a paste
That previously held no meaning of life.
But the particles now revived
Hold together the new aroma of petrichor,
Which only ushers thou
To tread and stomp,
Leaning a beautiful trail
Of intimate contact and memories.
.
.
.
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#inklings2020
inklingslitsoc
