Repeat.

Repeat.
Closing in,
you overcome,
ushering in your storm.
Thunder,

sometimes
I think back
on our midnight
broods, looking for metered
feeling

to prove
synchronized,
when my own rough
existence hinted at
no storm’s

eye near.
Promises
of denouement
laugh at my outcry, as
never

a still
to be had…
My own trouble
is this, riparian,
alone,

hidden
in confines,
not to be blamed.
You are my petrichor;
I breathe

in you
and your peace –
panacea,
just for a time, until
Repeat.

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