An Ode to Hugs

A mother’s arms,

The first to hold.

A teddy bear,

Chasing away monsters.

A dog on its hind legs,

Paws wet on shoulders.

A heavy blanket,

When outside, thunder roars.

A hunched palm,

Under the midnight sky.

A cup of tea,

With an old confidante.

A lover’s warmth,

Full of promise.

A child on your lap,

Pudgy arms around your neck.

The final embrace,

To the grave.

Haiku on nostalgia

Run, whispered the voice.

What else would innocence do?

Slipping through icy

Paths, against the backdrop of

The bloody sky, chased by

Nostalgia, what

To do now, except paint a

Rosy smile, masking.

Sixteenth

There was a child, who treaded shorelines,

Feet sinking into sand so fine.

But now she watches the sun bleed into the ocean,

Hand clenched to the trigger of an invisible gun.

Lifting a glass for another drink

The mind desperately fumbles to link

Two places on opposite ends of the globe.

In one it was under waves she dove,

The other mere loneliness.

Yet in drowning there is no caress,

Only dark denial of hands that refuse to touch

The corals, the fish, the never-ending rush.

Remaining instead in apple-like memories,

Tarnished now by stains from strawberries.

No longer a child, red in the glass,

Ignored is her plea to return to the past.

With Love, the Past

From quixotic fantasies

to bleaker reality.

From smooth seashells

to crumbling mosaics.

From coconut clusters on palms

to a carpet of orange leaves.

From sand pouring like an hourglass

to snowflakes settling in twisted locks.

From seeing red

behind closed eyelids,

to opening them to
crashing blue waves.