perfect timing . . .
the way you make
my heart throb
perplexed again . . .
why is my love for you
so much like madness?
vision quest . . .
I look into your eyes
for answers
going out?
I could write an epic
with your lilac perfume
romance on the rocks . . .
you hold out your hand
for another sip
fading photograph . . .
how you drift
away
dust in the footprints
on my doorstep . . .
your last visit
your apparition stands
in the doorway, disrobed . . .
now that’s the spirit
the last poem
to my name . . .
dressed in rags for you
First published in Failed Haiku
