Sadness – Page 8 – Iron Haiku

Age

a day at the beach-
budding romance captured in
faded polaroids
–
sundown-
walking slowly
hand in hand

past a dark alley
a chorus of feral cats
and toppled trash cans
–
over the car horns
and the shouting-
more sirens

through endless farmland-
I suddenly see myself
in a passing train
–
ice tinged puddles-
a stranger lingers
in the water

another el train
rumbles by as I sit in
my open window
–
an ailing fan-
ninety degrees
at two am

blinded by the pain-
your small hand comes to guide me
out of the darkness
–
crystal sky-
the sudden flight
mourning doves

sleep clouding my eyes
I drive into the sunrise-
a cold autumn moon
–
cold dark morn-
torn from the womb
of my comforter

a weathered park bench
waiting on the bus a child
takes the time to sit
–
early afternoon-
pigeons gather by
an empty bench

sputtering neon-
piles of rags weakly lit by
the staccato glow
–
november night-
threadbare blankets
in the doorway

softly falling rain-
I finally let you go
for your sake and mine
–
glass in his hair-
a husband waits
in anguished silence

hourglass summer-
memories of time we spent
slip through my fingers
–
driftwood-
a gull’s shadow
passes by