vacant

she sat at the bus stop
and stared at the old house across the street
she couldn't see the peeling paint
lopsided shutters or overgrown bushes
she focused on the past
the children playing on the large porch
the radio shows heard behind the parlor windows
she caught glimpses of curtains blowing lightly in a summer breeze
she could almost smell the pies and the fallen leaves
near the door, large and trimmed in stained glass
she could taste the cold with a hint of pine
she could feel the warmth from the glowing fireplace
and the comfort of soaking in the claw foot tub
the slam of the screen door shook her from her reverie
a dirty homeless man, drunk, emerged from the structure
she turned away and looked at nothing

her stare
her heart

unwanted
unloved

vacant

just like the house she adored

Pre-party blues

"Are you going to wear that?" she asked while adjusting her hair.
He stared at her, blood boiling. He managed to unclinch his jaw enough to speak.
"Of course not. I just didn't want to get the good clothes dirty." He looked down at the shirt and slacks. She shook her head and walked out of the room. He shook his head and changed his clothes. Again.

Quickly

I have only a moment
not enough time to think through,
analyze, research and contemplate
the placement of the words
and what I wish to convey

I don't have the precious seconds
to ponder pace
align ahliteration
straighten stanzas
design rhymes

and now my time is up

my writing style in a haiku

hopeless endeavors
lead to the ultimate goal
persistence pays off