Butterflies used to be mirrors
Who reflected
Beautiful souls
This isn’t the first
It’s the last one above me
This is the second
How forgettable
Here beside the road
Driver do you care?
-waiting for a late night bus
The death of haiku
Just take the least amount
The five seven five
You’ll never catch it
That which was thus
Read your memories
(On reliving life through written word)
The sacred gem
Is never easy to find
That isn’t sacred
Extinguished candle
Pitched into the darkness
Now we mourn the light
To slice a tart lime
A sensation good night start
Someone in a stream
-on a ritual curated
The tiger hunts
-on women’s tennis
An enlightened guide
The master remained opened
Her meditation
-on godessness