Winter – Page 7 – Iron Haiku

lost in the mirror-
the only light comes from the
crack in my teacup
–
face splitting grins-
each gaping mouth
another door

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

stoic in the sun-
sand awaiting ruin from
the approaching tide
–
tenuous footprints-
a shimmering surf
over amber sands

fingers cracked with age
settle on the well worn keys
of her piano
–
milky eyes-
memories of youth
and music

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

a dark bus depot-
waiting by the only light
for hope to arrive
–
dark wanderings-
only the moon
lights my path

bleary eyed and tired-
the tile floor in the bathroom
cold beneath my feet
–
before sunrise-
my pillow whispers
sweet nothings

invading my dreams-
the warm aroma drifts in
through my bedroom door
–
warm pajamas-
a steaming mug
on my nightstand

sunday morning snow-
the coals put to bed last night
gently coaxed to light
–
aimless snowflakes-
sunlight flashes
and disappears

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