Petrichor

By Anne Tricia Olmillo

Overcast, wind whispering. On the horizon, a distant storm brewing. Leaves rustle like your humming, Before I knew it, I was crying.

Softly came the rain down; On the heated, dry ground. A familiar scent rebounds, There I stood, spellbound. That earthy smell, How it makes my heart swell! For the mem'ries that it tells Of you and what hath befell.

Oh, the smell of the rain. Tho' to some be mundane, Dear to me, it remains, For it echoes your name.

Yes, the smell of the rain, And you are the same. Both none can restrain, Yet few know your name.

Like the smell of the rain, For some time did prevail. Brought hope, anon wane, With the wind, you sail.