A Week of Haiku


happiness of clams
rumored to be idyllic
but how can we know



a lifetime spent with
hands held gently: weekends pass
treasure moments now



gently blushing pink
gold kisses away the gloom
dawn stretches her wings



beneath sodden streets
full moon flakes run the gamut
above, deer munch clover


old books dry damply
scent fills the office in heat
rescues of the heart



loneliness grips tight
a vice around throat and heart
please make it stop now



words like vomit spill
unstoppingly, chokingly
thoughts without substance



included, but torn
painfully longing and cold fear

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