A Few Haiku

Parched, pink, supple skin

tastes of salt and strawberry.

Like countless late nights.

—–

Fingers dance as one –

mirrored hands like those around

us. We are ghosts here.

——

Soft moans carry sound

through tepid summer nights. You

birth fire* to the air.

 

© Audrey Rosengreen, 2019

____________________________________________________________________________________________

 

*I understand the ambiguity of the word fire being used as both a one syllable word or two. In this case it’s one… so it fits of course. : P

 

 

 

 

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