behind you

the lady walks
on tippie toes
no one hears her
as she goes

cloaked in grey
under the clouds
her silent steps
becoming loud

the door it creaks
from its weathered core
she closes it
he begs for more

the lady leaves
no fingerprints behind
her brilliant gloves
you will not find

she is

he is tussled and torn -
all over rustled like
auburn autumn leaves
jumped in daily

the bottom is not empty
or dangerous either
mostly soft ...
a bit loud when fed
too much

he waits, quiet...his lips
quiver a little
when she opens the door

like  a gremlin
she might become evil
at midnight
without warning

it won't be worth
putting up a fight

her ribbons are boas
her legs a long abyss
innocent eyes entrance
the unwitting onlooker

she is quicksand

it will be easier to give in

blue haiku

the heavy cloud
shrouds the sunset and weeps
until sunrise

one less hour

she runs through the day
drizzled with disasters
small, senseless marbles
that might trip her

and so she collects
her marbles
and carries on

Caught

she walks in silence
the long arm of the wind pushes her
her branches quiver
she stumbles on a moss blanketed rock
and is sustained
by a Pine Tree

its thick brush
does not let her fall

poem by Laurie Molloy - please see photo credit under image

 

By Rusalina - Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4395502

orange marmalade

off orange goop
rocky glops like mountain tops
inedible toast sauce

Dream Sower

she, a night farmer
flips the pages

is the reader that lives
in the garden's secret life
a sentence traveler that has
blossomed in many minds

she cultivates better tomorrows
and hopes...
that dawn may bring her rest

from midnight through sunrise
she casts the seeds
that dreams are made of