Michael Winegar
Walking through the silver curtains,
The rain washing away some of a bad day,
I find myself going back in time,
Times when things were certain
and younger days felt like May.
Everything was fine.
I remember when small puddles were raging seas
And rivulets of water were wonderful waterfalls.
The gray sky spoke its approval in heavenly bass tones.
I would look at mountains covered with foggy mysteries
As they stood there green gray, and tall.
Each raindrop would fall, meeting its fate alone.
Seductive petrichor, easing my mind with the past
Your heady scent brings back gladder times.
And the rain cleans the now.
The smiles you bring me with the rain now past
Make everything once again fine.
Sweet petrichor, I feel good again, now
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 6:24 PM UTC
Michael Winegar
Walking through the silver curtains,
The rain washing away some of a bad day,
I find myself going back in time,
Times when things were certain
and younger days felt like May.
Everything was fine.
I remember when small puddles were raging seas
And rivulets of water were wonderful waterfalls.
The gray sky spoke its approval in heavenly bass tones.
I would look at mountains covered with foggy mysteries
As they stood there green gray, and tall.
Each raindrop would fall, meeting its fate alone.
Seductive petrichor, easing my mind with the past
Your heady scent brings back gladder times.
And the rain cleans the now.
The smiles you bring me with the rain now past
Make everything once again fine.
Sweet petrichor, I feel good again, now
Copyright 2017, William M. Winegar
