Her Rain Poem by Jaxsun Castro Horn

A petrichor aroma laid under skies azure,
the token of a maiden befell to grief.
With nine Belle-Lettres so dear, so pure
stood essence of Freya's motif.
Untowardly adrift, aboard that pallid gown
mine daphnean swan of lavender face.
Whose pluvial eyes bled fast down
suffused of Poseidon's trace.
Recollection bereft, neither melancholy nor inured
by reveries betwixt kindred doves once flew.
O morrow come, allay she rest assured
my seraph's ennead name anew.

“If I may dry these tears of mine dearest INAMORATA;
bid farewell this rare desert rain for a simple fata morgana'