haiku with chet

poverty, ruin
the old man thinks it's all good
we'll see about that

hold my hand

soft focus

a light remains 

but i can't see

where i am

or where to go

all i have are open arms

all i have is the hope

that you will 

hold my hand
keep my heart soft
keep my heart soft
keep my heart ready

empty hands

there’s a certain comfort in burying myself

in dreams 

in

love

there’s a confidence found in things

surrounding

there’s a certain faith required to be grateful

I keep coming up short

your whisper is startling but freeing

a painful sort of thing

that causes me to remember

I have empty hands

and I can’t see