Time – Page 63 – Iron Haiku

unspeakable acts-
unlearned lessons of the past
repeating again
–
cattle cars-
disappear within
the gates of hell

dusty fountain pens-
drawers full of love letters she
never meant to send
–
in the stacks-
quietly I try
to catch your eye

fingers intertwined
your slippered feet atop mine
before the fire
–
two dozen years-
still waking up
next to you

rivers of sunlight-
the waking ocean meets the sky
and the coming dawn
–
sunrise-
morning glory
blossoms

over greening trees
the ashen face of winter
watches the sunrise
–
peep frogs-
rainfall on
the river

a fleeting moment
captured in a photograph
when we were in love
–
a glass of wine-
this shoebox full
of torn photos

angry bitter tears
burn as they roll down her face
and fall to the dirt
–
arid fields-
dust gathers
around his feet

downtown abandoned-
sickly yellow light leaks from
a single street lamp
–
moths-
the guttering
porch light

a cobblestone path-
the back garden gate flanked by
rose bushes in bloom
–
spring breeze-
the cloying scent
of honeysuckle

charcoal black velvet-
an upholstered sky pierced by
pinholes of starlight
–
desert mesa-
the broad expanse
of the midnight sky