Rain
The petrichor of the first rain on the field
Gets into my nostrils
It is a freedom from the cage of scorching heat
In my exhausted lungs
Into the uncaged shower of moistened fragrance
From the dank dry grass
My tongue seeks to get a salty taste of the ocean
Inhaling the wet mass
Of the stones on roadsides emanating petrichor
The scent of rain once more
I understand jasmine will be at my drenched door
The exit of dead dance
Drizzly entrance of your rain-kissed glance
_______________________________________
June 6, 2016
Copyright © Probir Gupta | Year Posted 2016
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