About to fall
You can smell it in the air
long before the pavement darkens
with each fat, slow drop.
Electricity sparks upon our flesh
as the wind gathers pace,
throwing lifeless leaves
into the hungry current
of a night lush with life.
Here it comes.....
here it is.....
awash with copper scents,
like blood on your lips,
the storm begins.
Together, yet somehow alone,
we embrace the rain
and slowly pull apart.
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Comments about this poem (About to fall by Viola Grey )
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