Haiku #47


Heaven’s sterile dots
The stars all strung in chorus 
Winter skies bare bones


Best Friend Crossing The Rainbow Bridge


You could no longer hear me tell you, how much I loved you. Your eyes clouded and your legs failed. You walked with a crooked limp, but your tail still wagged when we walked in the sunshine, together.
You barked too much, were generally uncooperative, and often nipped at guests visiting our home. You were one of the WORST dogs, EVER.
You were smuggled into the house of a teen age girl’s jacket, after she was implicitly told NOT to bring a dog home. Once our eyes met, and you licked my face, I was under your love spell for the next 15 years.
These were some of the most transformative times of my life, and ultimately, some of my worst. Your little heart never once failed to make me recognize, that asking God, or the Universe, for the best, was not for my best. I will always pray God brings me the worst, so I will always know the best. Thank you, for being my best friend, for the last fifteen years of my life. As I always said, ” I love you more than anyone has ever loved, anyone, ever.” RIP ❤ my sweetest love.

Bequeathed of Grief

How dare this breeze, come call on me, for I am alone now, with my grief. Has it come to visit me, unannounced? I should have prepared tea for thee, and combed my hair, but you have come to tousle my curls, fashionably wind-blown, by your presence.  Do you not see, I am quite pensive here, pining for a friend, a lost love and years of my youth, before you came to touch the aging, etched around my eyes?
  Your presence comforts me, for the stillness is so debilitating, as if the hand has stuck again, on a clock, at a juncture at which I never wished to witness.
 Must I be reminded of the ticking moment, when all had expired, must this expiration continue counting minutes, asking me,” how much can your soul bear of this void, until it breaks you?”
 I’m weak. I broke at the first tick. Does this nakedness amuse you? My invisible friend, breeze of my grief, stay with me as I unwind, I want no other visitors. If am still alive, as the heart beat of clocks, then I want to feel every bone shatter, every muscle writhing in the knowledge that what was, is no more.
 My friend is clothed in Earth. She sleeps without the pain, she has bequeathed to me. My only happiness to inherit this albatross, if she is smiling now in the winds.

The Sky Is All I Have

If I wasn’t me, I wouldn’t have thoughts of you. The thought is all I’ve got. I stare into the sky, and with its faceless eyes, stars dotted, strung like lights to nowhere, everywhere, you see me there. 
This great cycle of birth and death, of seasons circling around, like clocks ticking their beating heart, is merely time without you now.  Neither the stars, nor clocks, or time seem to mind, we are apart. We walk and talk and write and work as if neither has knowledge the other ever existed.
Somedays, the sky is all I have. 



There lies beauty in death. Bring to mind the death of each day, and the skies resignation in soft puffy watercolors of peaceful pinks framed in tranquil lilac as the sun’s final exit creeps silently out of sight. It was such a day you made your exit also, from this world you wished away with your last labored breath.
The news was piercing and unacceptable to my ears. Didn’t we just laugh, holding our sides outside on a day the winter had finally surrendered her cruel stinging seizes, and your eyes danced at the diversion of a snow crocus beginning to pop its head out of the lazy brown earth, and soon spring would burst with lime pustules, dotting barren branches?
We both always adored the moon. Once, we stood on a veranda, smoking cigarettes and giggling like schoolgirls, intoxicated by the night skies. I told you it looked as if there was an enormous charm bracelet adorned in heaven with sterling stars strung along a giant pearl, luminously glowing in our drunkenness.  We whispered secrets, by moonlight, hushing one another at the sound of slight footsteps, smoothing out our wide smiles when discovered out of doors in the darkness of an apathetic winter’s night.
The moon will never be the same now. That ever changing globe, waxing and waning, incandescently warning that much more was lost then the sun drowning in muted clouds that day, falling from the sky, signaling the moon to come and dance, one last time, while you closed your amber eyes, not to be undone.  As winter escaped unannounced, you too my friend released your spirit to watercolor skies, and became a link and a star in the enormous charm bracelet in heaven, softly glowing with the pearl moon.