Her hair smelled of hay,
summer rain and first kisses;
breathless, petrichor.
His fingers trembled
childhood’s last tattoo, across
her pale, arching spine.
Ryan Stone
Comments
17 responses to “Petrichor 5-7-5”
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This is fantastic! You managed to convey both the innocence and desire of the moment in so few lines. Love it! 💕
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mmmm…..love this Ryan! Summer and innocence- reminds me when I was a little girl playing in my neighbors haystacks. You’re so good :))
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LOVELOVELOVELOVELOVELOVELOVELOVELOVELOVE!!!!!
Ryan, seriously, you need to put all your haiku together and publish. I just read this one on the W.S.S. this morning. I wish I could write haiku how you do! 😀
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I am in love with this word (and of course I have written about it) What a sincere and pure time. The stories you tell, the feelings you arise, mixed with the smell of earth after the rain.
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