The thirst

The smell of rain from my dog’s hair
The rhythmic sound droplets make on my windows
The smell of wet cement
The pink veil magnolias are waving before my eyes
The suave flavour that envelope the streets after the rain
The gentle whisper trees pour down my ear
All that sensorial realm builds walls of nostalgia

And I wake up fully armoured against the cloud of depression

I walk straight forward shredding all my memories of the lasts springs

I am thirsty, a thirst like only an ocean can bear

The thirst for the first blossom, for the first spade of grass, for the first thrill of a bird

The thirst for the original spring

10 thoughts on “The thirst

  1. suzette portes san jose

    spring in bloom as you travel with heart light as the ray of the rainbow and not as with the droplets of rain upon you…woven words are well-done dear… 🙂

    Reply

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