Petrichor

The aroma of sweet petrichor flooded my mind & senses, as soft, dew-like pearl droplets caressed my tender face. Though I prayed for the mist to rinse away my anxieties, I carried the marks of one so low readily on my countenance, and in my stature. Tiredness overcame me, as did the loneliness, discovered the deep corners of my mind, shadowed with cobwebs, filling the cavern with a restlessness I could not escape. A monologue, a personal libretto I could not distinguish came to pass; I sang a joyless homily. A discourse went. I am.


SUZIE CHANEY