You are the petrichor,
mon chéri amour,
after a summer's drought.
Earth-scented and pure,
in lush refreshed verdure,
I'm dampened and devout.
A hoppipolla bliss
as raindrops dance and kiss
on ill-advised outfits.
We seem to be insane
as we're singing in the rain
to all our favourite hits.
No comments:
Post a Comment