A Haiku Sextet
Losing her, a dream,
winter ravaged my soul and
Now the snowman melts.
Solitary bird,
why sing you only of spring
outside my window?
I stole a flower
from nature's bed,bottled it.
Now it is dying.
The crunch of brown leaves
tells me nothing whatsoever
about decay, death.
It is November,
but the air forgets that as
it dances springtime.
Winter is most real,
fall most sad, summer holy,
but spring is a dream.
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