Poetry – Page 11

Haiku 267/365

The red bird is near. And Fall has come— I can hear The leaves as they drop.

Morning coffee is A routine we do before We part. A check-in.

The trees could teach us How to breathe, how to let go Die and be reborn.

You think you have time So you waste away and rhyme— Leave something behind.

The road feels complex Avenues takes you to sex But, what else drives you?

Numbing behind screens Delete the apps so you please Can learn how to breathe.

The eyes hurt; it’s worse The night rubbed wrong. Dream filled songs Of a distant pain.

The trickle of fear, As it falls into tears, and The day is unclear.

The empty inside It blooms like canna lilies Full and annual.

When it’s time to sleep Why do I get so sad and Fear the unconscious?