Poetry
Old Habits
They say that we live what we were taught,
old habits dying hard,
if they ever die at all.
A gentle touch or a glance that slices deep,
both speak volumes to the heart
And echo through the soul,
pulling us back to all we might have left behind.
Is that why loneliness snuggles up so easily next to me,
the wayward friend that keeps returning home?
Haiku
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Nature’s Palette in Five Acts
(HAIKU)
Rainbow soaring high--
Paintbox of color spilling
Across the heavens.
​
Red and black spotted house,
Marching home to her children—
Ladybug fly away!
Water deep and strong,
Holding secrets in the depths—
River rushing by.
The sky bleak and dark,
Thunder crashing underneath—
Clouds weeping with fright.
Puffed ball of feathers,
Sparrow splashing in its bath—
Water and motion.