Memories of storms

Draw me in with your scent
lingering on my fingertips,
Slipping from one to the next
and drifting back to the first.
In dying light and candle fire
tired wind dropped to stillness
Feeling leaves crunch underfoot
and the last life of colour fades.
Passing the final junction
a new fragrance slides by
turning to the less traveled
and the pull of the unknown.
The failing sun bleeds to stars
the clouds gather in tight,
mighty the fallen rise
awaiting the dawn's break.