Lost – Page 14 – Iron Haiku

damp and feverish-
a restful sleep eludes me
on this bed of coals
–
noonday sun-
ice in my glass
long turned to water

a pile of old clothes-
years of living on the street
etched deep in her face
–
dirty snow-
sleep arrives on
a cardboard box

lying here in bed
unnbeknownst to you your trust
already betrayed
–
heavy fog-
your train leaves
without me

this fight is over
and yet I find myself still
walking on eggshells
–
fallen trees-
we drive home
in silence

the year end draws near-
looking back on regrets for
things I didn’t do
–
snowshoes-
stepping out
onto thin ice

a gilded mirror-
reflections of other lives
from across the room
–
frosted windows-
fire reflected
in your eyes

well after midnight
christmas eve fire in the hearth
burning down to ash
–
a warm hearth-
ashes mix with
the falling snow

long after midnight-
my eyes lose their focus as
I write in my sleep
–
well past curfew-
tires on the
gravel drive

freshly cut flowers
in what used to be your urn
on my mantle piece
–
empty boxes-
the dog sleeps
on your side

leaving my baggage
there’s far too much to carry
along this journey
–
the river left behind-
ewer water
darkens the road