Haiku Book

Yes, it rained today,
so heavy and persistent,
that has left puddles.

I drove through a lot,
just to make them all to splash,
re-wetting the path.

I am so tired,
the sleep is creeping up now,
and my eyes soon close.

Now from dreams I wake,
and for a moment wonder,
am I awake now?

There’s not much in mind,
just a dull like buzz sometimes,
when I am thinking.

A purple flower,
beside the road in London,
on the embankment.

I don’t want to be,
the dust the covers the glow,
the glow of a rose,

Music’s therapy,
the notes that dumb down the stress,
and songs that ease me.

This day disappeared,
it’s lost to history now,
and that’s forever.

Days don’t just vanish,
they exist but we miss them,
as they pass so fast.

Distractions abound,
work, travel, home and T.V,
all steal time away.

It’s just when we stop,
for a moment, not too long,
that we see the day.

And the days go by,
silver threads among the gold,
weaving tapestries.

I counting my time,
five minutes here and ten there,
getting thing done now.,

Do you read these things,
I wish I could understand,
what you think of them.

my eye are going,
I asked where they are going,
they said afar off.

The tea got stone cold,
waiting but I didn’t show,
so I made it fresh.

I’ll look for the moon,
it is somewhere out there now,
in the clear black sky.

How did I do it,
work so much on a mobile,
it is harder now.

Maybe I’m lazy,
tired of the tiddlely,
and the tiny screen.

The sun in the sky,
lights the clouds like great lanterns,
that just fade away.

I try to stay here,
in the present, in the now,
So I get more done.

When I fell asleep,
I dreamed I was really there,
but it was a dream.

I went exploring,
the overgrowth and bushes,
to see what was there.

The rain came today,
in showers and very wet,
but it’s refreshing.

Playing hide and seek,
see if I can hide away,
and not discovered.

This was a last day,
I am changing jobs next week,
where am I going?

This Friday has me,
in London enjoying it,
walking empty streets.

I got the night train,
it took me slowly back home,
just in time for bed.

The meadows now bloom,
with grass, flowers and insects;
such a lovely sight.

The end’s drawing nigh,
and it not without a sigh,
for the passing day.

I’m packing things up,
trying to find the lost ends,
that make them complete.

There are time delays,
this is what I’m calling late,
and put it to fate.

The last day’s coming,
before a move somewhere new,
always a hard thing