Leaves are raised
In utter exaltation
Of a dying sun.
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death
Haiku 1
Death comes to me young
And Time remains as one who
Is old— yet both come.
Sepulchre of Snow
In the night I hither and thither
In hopes of growing fonder
Of the darkness that I do wander
With desires to grow accustomed
To the situation of “My Grief”
These city’s street lights love
To play tricks with my shadow
It waxes and then grows narrow
With the additional company
Of those watching “My Grief”
The snow banks ever upward
Threatening to upon me spiral
I downward struggle in denial
In a blunder to reunite
Postmortem with “My Grief”
The stone tablets project themselves
Through a temporary layer
Another burden they must bear
Although they remain quiet
Respectfully silent for “My Grief”
I find the sepulchre to which
I am most unwillingly familiar
Finally I sit down near her
Once again love is reunited
Passionately freezing “My Grief”
Silhouette Portraiture
Your image
Forever emblazoned
On this ring.
No detail arising
To show the dimples and freckles
That once danced across your cheeks.
Just a profile
Of a beautiful figure, perhaps
Resembling a distinguished face.
Seeing you
Here on this portraiture
Never made me feel more out of place.
You died
So very, very long ago
Yet I trudge forward to the next age
