Words are leaves, poignantly bold when sprouted, destined to wither lose their hold – thank goodness our love is a trunk, solidly rooted, steadfast –
Sunday morning runners pass by bay window, oozing life, while I strain to catch a glimpse, movement tenuous – irony of life rendered surreal by
Years when children, perpetually in motion, required a referee – Mom’s energy replete so ephemeral now – time having vanished, weariness lingering, savouring memory blurs.
Educated in curriculums qualified to lesson plan and structure evaluations far reach from current course – platform inaccessible, only student self – a disagreeable sort
If only I could bloom a rhapsody, gentles river song for sound… will remember your promise – respect another soul, honour their life, that between
Mosquitoes favour river banks – hopefully hate repellent, free me to linger as dusk settles catch that last flash of colour. (For RonovanWrites Haiku Challenge: