Haiku, August 2009

All but the last of the following were written while I was in San Francisco; a particular group, easily identifiable by their content, were written while I was waiting (momentarily frustrated) in the lobby of the Renoir Hotel.

I sit deflated,
Tired; am I sick? Hope not!
Have lots still to do.


And you lie to me,
And I let you, sweet smile,
Heart still skipping beats.


I circle your mouth,
Gently stroking and touching
With my fingertip


your hand is in mine -
I feel it - over here
in another land


In San Francisco,
I wait for the computer.
My sunburn tingles.


I know he's paying
But does he have to type slow?
And print out so much?


He left it at last,
But shut it down! Sigh - and sigh! -
The log off is fine


the power to change
how others make me feel
mine, and mine alone