garden

Let’s do gardening.
Plant some seeds and wait to see
our flower bed grow.

I like gardeners. Not only because they aren’t afraid to get dirty, but because they are thoughtful and patient.

“These seeds will be flowers or vegetables one day soon.”

When we plant flowers, we will share their colors and perfume all Summer.

Our squashes and pumpkins will fill our stomachs this Fall.

But now, let us plant fruit trees and watch them take root. And, over time as we see them grow and spread their branches, we shall enjoy their sweet red, golden or green fruits together for all the years ahead.

Missed Connections are filled with good, bad and dirt-diggin’-haiku. Did you write one? Did you find one? Before you start sowin’-n-reapin’, email the link to Lovelorn Poets! We’ll preserve those seeds-of-summer-syllables for all eternity.

hot

Cheeseburger breakfast
is way better than oatmeal.
No spoon is required.

Hell, yes. It was hot and juicy and satisfying. 😉

And it really is lunch or dinner time somewhere. It’s probably even Happy Hour somewhere….

OK. Yes. I do realize that I suffer from a kind of normal backwardation.
But that darned burger is much more valuable now, than it will be in the future, tonight.

I will just learn to live with it.

(Tomorrow’s breakfast might be lasagna.)

Missed Connections are filled with good, bad and burger-breakfast-haiku. Did you write one? Did you find one? Before you slip into that food coma, email the link to Lovelorn Poets! We’ll preserve those somewhere-satisfying-syllables for all eternity.

together

We are together
even when we are apart.
Until you return.

It’s still a strange experience when you are traveling or in another city.
I continue to feel like you are in the next room despite actually spending days and nights alone.

I imagine it’s like those amputees that feel their ghost arm moving,
or still filling their sleeve; weeks or months after the surgery.

The sensation goes against logic, since I dropped you off at the airport,
and watched you walk into the terminal.

I am trying to believe it is comforting, and not be lonely, or uneasy.

I keep checking the fridge, as if there is some kind of answer inside. But there
is nothing but a carton of milk, butter and some half-eaten jars of apricot and peach preserves.

And that old box of baking soda in the back that I cannot even remember buying.

Missed Connections are filled with good, bad and lonely-alone-haiku. Did you write one? Did you find one? Before you start searching through the refrigerator (unless, of course, you’re going to clean it), email the link to Lovelorn Poets! We’ll preserve those strangely-uneasy-syllables for all eternity.