Oh, summer storm
You’re the cliché that never grows old
the tale that I never tire of being told.
You’ve ensnared me with lightning,
bound me in thunder,
And I feel the glorious thrum of rain on my thighs.
Lullaby of sighs, oh golden ore
dream of me more, in a half-sunken place.
Place your sunburnt medallion around me.
Languishing like copper in
the alchemy of this moment.
Oh lie back, Midas atonement,
when you meant to heal me,
did you consider, that if I were heaven-sent,
I’d be an awful lot lighter? I love falling asleep
to the weep of rain, and opening my eyes
to your sun struck skies. It’s a symphony
of your thoughts of me, so play on, viola,
For those who see rainy nights and summer mornings