Emotions – Page 7 – Iron Haiku

an old red broomstick
the paint worn through to the wood
from countless fingers
–
deep in the attic-
sweeping out
forgotten dirt

covers pulled up high-
living in constant fear of
the click of the latch
–
black and blue sky-
waiting for the
impending storm

saturday morning-
I fall back to sleep, your kiss
drying on my lips
–
the bedroom door-
your pillow
still warm

bitter winter winds-
corruption festers and thrives
in the light of day
–
new moon-
awaiting the sun
to seek out shadows

curled up on cardboard-
nameless faceless commuters
pass without a glance
–
fingerless gloves-
dreaming of a home
not a doorway

reaching for the sun-
all those years spent climbing up
just to fall back down
–
scorched earth-
blackened stumps
to the horizon

a great bald eagle-
I’m forced to watch her greatness
fly on broken wings
–
a woodland pond-
the still water
brackish

another black cloud-
rain runs down my iron skin
leaving trails of rust
–
acid rain-
too much life
etched in my face

deceptive shadows-
I make my way back to bed
the hall light left on
–
moonlight on the floor-
I check again
under her bed

deep mahogany-
my smile as you ease over
the worn brown leather
–
your auburn hair-
easy small talk
over peanuts