Haiku Kukai 3 - Love

Global Haiku • Millikin University • Spring 2014

lonely saxophone
whines throughout the bar
songs for his late wife

quiet conversation
he gets closer
—heart stops

full moon overhead
crickets in the background
we get to know one another

she fills my heart
with song.
no room left

pushing her away
too shy to say
I love you

clear winter night
I clutch her to me
peaceful together

wind-blown hair
he can't look away
from those hazel eyes

my beautiful girl
eyes closed, gently breathing
a slight finger twitch

no makeup
hair tied in a bun
he loves her anyway

beneath the branches
we talk of love
autumn willow

caller ID
tears well up
voice mail again

phone lights up
a good night text
sweet dreams

empty living room
candle stump

desks piled with
brown paper sacks
. . . young love

bit of college-ruled paper
passed to the back
to find her heart

she smiles
everything around

6,000 RPM
a blurry panorama
that sexy wind blown look

seeing a couple
experience the pain again

as the priest closes,
a crowd awaits
the two men's kiss

i could sit for hours
listening to
your breathing

no one can hear
when I talk in my sleep

i can still taste
the cherry on her lips—
the one that got away

sad and forlorn
a friend finds me
cup of hot cocoa

a new ribbon
he laughs at my girlishness
Magnolia breeze

your love is not
a John Hughes movie
you're not pretty in pink

a spark ignites
faster than
a blink of an eye

dinner and a movie
first date

laughing at jokes
only we understand
everyone around stares

long line for Chinese
surrounded by others
all alone

buffalo wild wings
who needs love?

tempered heart patient
calls out
for his wife

in the mailbox
a heart shaped box

radiant sunlight
the ring bearer
picks his nose

like snow
when the sun comes up
love is gone

park swings
talking of the future
as we watch the sunset

I sneak a look
sculpted cheek bone
he turns, I blush

under the counter
you sit
      little monkey slippers

gazing at you
the opening act of the opera
comes to a close

her smile appears
on Skype

he reaches
for her hand

the moon and stars bright.
Is she watching them too?

under the maple tree
we talk for hours,
hands inch closer

© 2014, Randy Brooks • Millikin University
All rights returned to authors upon publication.