Petrichor never caught to my nose
Waterlogged pits of muck and murk did.
Wraths of anger against the dry shores
A familiar foe ebbing and flowing in the near distance,
Ready to break the stony roads
With one gulp down the throat.
Any moment now!
Tonight in my quiet abode
Stretched across the window
You were clinging on to the panes
with some ceaseless pain
That's persistent and more.
I've felt you as a weeping soul
The only being awake
As I lurk about
In the dark corridors of life's nights.
Still in the distance
A screen of glass between us,
but somehow akin to me
Somehow persistent in its efforts.
A cold and distant December friend who seldom visits
Who beckons winters,
Winters that have been seen never before
In the 50 years of this sweat soaked city.
