Rain doesn’t smell like “petrichor”, as most people believe.
Instead, it smells of farewell.
A goodbye to the cotton candy spring.
The sky cracks up,
the perfume hits my aching senses, but
fight me if it is not
longing sounding the same as leaving.
The fragrance, mixing with the waves
in the ocean, sounds like a departure song.
Writing a poetry on a tender leaf,
just so the world remembers how it fell
into the arms of yellow autumn….