Love – Page 6 – Iron Haiku

months of sundays gone-
I still just can’t get used to
sleeping without you
–
autumn winds-
the restless swirl
of fallen leaves

afternoon sunlight-
an old man and his grandson
asleep on the floor
–
sunday mornings-
step stool by the sink
shaving together

my bedside vigil-
each moment slipping away
taking you with them
–
machines hum-
outside your window
a starless night

moonlight in her hair-
she walks along the shoreline
and into the night
–
a turtle’s splash –
the moon wavers
on the water

patiently waiting-
at the terminal rain sheets
down tinted windows
–
autumn evening-
once again
I’m alone

my back turned to you-
pretending to be asleep as
you climb into bed
–
angry clouds-
blue skies
forgotten

softly falling rain-
wandering through the graveyard
in the dead of night
–
overcast-
reading the details
of those long dead

in an old wheelchair
a young girl waits deep inside
the shell of herself
–
first light-
a sliver of dawn
beneath the door

barely keeping still-
my fingers brushing across
your wet ruby lips
–
waves lap the shore-
your hair drying in
the tropical sun

rains of twilight passed-
crickets outside my window
singing me to sleep
–
tv static-
the low hum
of a ceiling fan