Thirteen Haiku on the 13th.

August 13, 2010

Late September gloom.
Lighthouse beam picks out bobbing
buoy every seven breaths.

Cup drained, spoon licked, torn
sugar sachet fluttering
in the cool breeze.

Cool breeze on my neck
circle seems to fit the square
smile plays on my face.

Eye-worn buildings at
street level. Lift your gaze,
such wonders await.

The way she doesn’t
speak or listen to me cuts
me like broken glass.

Crisp full moon overhead.
Roadkill on the shiny tarmac
bathed in its chill glow.

Twilight becomes night
Another day comes to an end
History starts again.

Chrysalis is where
ideas take shape, become,
morph into Being.

Years of acquiring
knowledge weigh him down like a
box full of old books.

Life feels like one long
trailer. When’s the main feature
supposed to begin?

His frozen heart starts
to thaw in the time it takes
a feather to settle.

Lean back, close my eyes
and smile, recalling grazed knees
and homemade ice lollies.

What comes after the
forward slash really counts. The
rest just gets you there.

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