Petrichor

March 22, 2015 § Leave a comment

Neither riches nor any wealth,

In bad times or good health,

No champagne or Bonaffair,

Could ever ever compare.

You know of what I speak,

It’s no secret that I keep,

Mon désir, mon amour,

It could only be petrichor.

And as the drops paint me,

In the hues of the stormy sea,

I am wonderstruck in my awe,

And my icy heart begins to thaw.

I am drugged in its high,

I am lost in its sigh,

Mon désir, mon amour,

It is only petrichor…

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