Iron Haiku – Page 512 – A short form poetry blog

Crimson clouds hang low.

The day’s embers glow softly,

burning down to dusk.
Drops of falling rain,
Waiting, outstretched tongue.
Desperately seeking my
I go to freeze on dark tides

I wake before three.

for another’s riches
The past is a guide;
A companion who leads you
Into the future
The night air’s cold hand

reaches down and pulls my breath

in shards from my chest.
Waves, softly lapping

Dappled light wanders.

Across the lush, verdant grass

Convergence

escaping out of
my self constructed prison
into your embrace
–
bourbon
ice cubes
slowly melting

Safety

in the forest glen
a dappled fawn lies hidden
in the underbrush
–
shrouded
cloaked within
our own narrative

Nostalgia

living in the past
reaching out for the echoes
of what used to be
–
wistful
remembering the way
things never were