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Remnants of a storm

Greet me on a Monday morning-

Cool, thick air, fresh on my

Nostrils-

Inhaled steadily and slowly,

Like pipe smoke-

Lightning, flashing overhead

Like distant sparks,

Draws my attention-

And I gaze over easily into those

Low, heavy clouds-

Soggy and dense-

The rain dripping easily-

A calm, persistent trickle-

It’s as if the clouds are weary from

Spewing such a storm-

I lay in my bed-

You next to me-

Your naked body warm against

Me-

Your legs tangled into mine like

Rope-

Your tiny whispers tingling through

Me like an electric current-

Your tired, muffled laughter resonating

Like the far off thunder-

The water soaked breeze

Sneaks over us like a light blanket,

And vacations over our nostrils

Like sweet sediment-

Your beauty is amplified by this stark

Aroma-

This gloomy incense-

And the love behind your eyes is as

Robust and mysterious as this morning

Mist-

Your brush your hand gently over me-

And it feels as soft and delicate as the

Wind streaming through the window-

This is my calm-

This is my peace-

This is my ideal,

My reason*

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