Petrichor

PETRICHOR(US)
I heard a tale

That rains will come

That our white shoe soles 

Will have an unwelcome brown

Of the muddy muck

That kisses the earth.
I heard a tale 

That pregnant flowers 

Will at last give birth

To enchanting petals 

So the bee might visit.
I heard a tale 

That harmattan is ready 

With a final whiff of dust to give 

This cold night cuddles

Will return I believe 
 I heard a tale

 That rains will come

That our bowls will be filled 

And our windows sealed.

I heard a tale 

So I made a chorus 

For my love for petrichor 

That utopic scent 

of water making soils porous. 
I heard a tale 

So I wrote a song 

Let this Petrichorus you now sing 

Be always on your lips 

Even in the day days 

When rain clings no more 

But ascends to watch from above 

Waiting.
© Osalam Wosu
2edged Pen, 2017

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