Dancing In The Rain Poem by Robert L. Bixler III

As the thunder rolls in rhythmic claps,
Her sweet memory rides on cool wind.
My siren calls for heartfelt relapse,
As the nearing of isobars send
Me further into my darkened past,
Illuminating scars with a momentary blast.

Like the arid desert flower, my mind opens,
To the soft, moist touch of the night’s storm.
My knees give, the world slowly dampens.
In emotionally charged air, a visage takes form,
Stops my heart, and seals beauty in motion.
This soaking moment becomes love’s potion.

As the wind twirls, her perfume spins
Round my head and charges my stance.
My body shivers, in all lusting sins,
With the wind toward this lost romance.
Raised from my respited hap chance,
This storm is beloved last dance.

The thunder steadies somber beat,
As I hold her in torrid, classical frame,
And waltz in stumble-step loving fete.
My mouth opens, but my words lame.
Memory recalls her softened skin
As I pull her, yet ever more, in.

Her embrace chills my very core,
As my eyes tear unapologetic.
Soaking clothes hug the contour,
Disguising desired flesh heretic.
As was with Venus and Aries,
This storm only temporarily tarries.

Rain to lips tastes of Bordeaux,
As we live in texture kiss.
The thunder’s deafening crescendo
Culminates this longing reminisce.
With the last clap of heavenly thunder
Her visage slowly fades, as we sunder.

The diminishing rain strips with despair,
As gravity summons my head to earth.
My soul wanders with you elsewhere
On the winds awaiting love’s birth.
My death secured, with last thunderclap
I awaken, remembrance of pains unwrap.

The echoes of your last five words,
Waken me from sweat-soaked sheet.
In one breathe, split my innards
Upon forked, motionlessly discrete.
Your words burn still evermore:
I don’t love you anymore.