Life – Page 76 – Iron Haiku

a toad on his throne
surrounded by those mirrors
that show him a prince
–
rain streaked windows-
the world outside
distorted

hug your children tight
for tonight there are parents
who won’t get that chance
–
barren trees-
young branches
devoid of leaves

an empty city-
young maples rises up through
the broken sidewalk
–
an old plow-
reclaimed
by the forest

asleep on a bench
the hard rap of a nightstick
startles him awake
–
dark rain-
wet newspaper
her only refuge

the sliding doors shut
as the train pulls away I’m
still on the platform
–
changing winds-
the last robin
takes wing

surrounded by wealth
still dissatisfied with the
overabundance
–
winter rain-
runnels
overflowing

over chips and drinks
the sounds of friendship filter
through my old screen door
–
dark windows-
piles of chips
shufflled cards

our fingers entwined-
the dusky blush of daybreak
mirrored in your face
–
the rising sun-
my finger traces
along your lips

going to bed late
dreading the dawn for who knows
what the day may bring
–
blowing snow-
the coarse growl
of a passing train

walking on eggshells
at the door I stop and turn-
you’re watching me leave
–
predawn-
hard and cold
the bedroom floor