And as the rain came down, he imagined skies above the clouds, whilst a nearby tree sang on the wind; a song of praise and worship. A smile pierced his cheeks once more. This storm like each before was only temporary. ~ Mark Thompson
Morning bliss rain’s gentle kiss, so soft in touch on whispered breeze; sprinkling my nose with delicate perfume of moist, fresh air; that taste consumes. As I walk this path in seeping fall it gives me a chance to take in it all, and realise dear something is amiss, it’s not nature’s touch I feel…
As she lay there drenched under storm-laden skies, it was then that I knew what it was like to fly. To grow wings and to soar, glide free and to roam, to let the winds rustle my soul, feel this love I call home. MT
Oh delicious perfume of pending pour, such subtle still of cool wind’s kiss; Breathed in to soak these souls in yearn, the taste of rain, so fresh, so crisp. MT
Oh rain. You f a l l all that way, from giddying heights to then flow d o w n a drain. 💧☔💧 😊 MT Fuck I left my shirts on the line.
Cold Your body pressed Driving Your limits pushed Raw power Your heart races Lashing Again and again Soaking Your skin drenched Dripping wet Your flower quenches Flooding Your canal overflowing Belting down Your senses waken Pulsating In ecstasy, endured Screaming Your breath escapes Howling Your more beckons Warmth inside Fueled by friction Perfect fucking weather….