When the dewdrops merge
With the descending messengers
Of adieu of the sunshine

When petals do pendulate 
In a virtuous busyness, 
To lend a brief seat 
To each of those nascent drops
Which ever kiss the dust

When the petrichor travels-
Down the lane and up the stairs,
To my ever so-monotonous seat
And lure me once again
To reach for the ceramic
Among the forgotten paraphernalia;
To fill that concoction within
And sit by the oak door
And let the tocks go waste
In sauntering down a memory lane

Somewhere among the grass,
Where I shall rediscover-
The treasures of a beautiful past,
The gilded sands of an ephemera,
The raindrops which hold
My soul captive within

My eyes search for those petty boats,
My feet await a symphony,
My ears quest for the cuckoo's song,
While the infinite meanings
My soul could once find
Behind each of the falling pearl,
Have abandoned my mind

Alas, my wish to drench
I find in me no more,
For all I find is emptiness
A void in the petrichor...