Haiku #327

The warmness is found
in between the fire embers
and space of fabrics. 

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Haiku #320

There’s nothing to say
my voice decided to leave
and hearts been strangled. 

I have nothing to say about what has most recently happened in Paris. Only thoughts and emotions filled sadness about the
incredible loss of life.

Questions of an insecure typewriter

What
will happen
when I am dusty
and my keys are
plagued with arthritis?

Why
haven’t I felt the touch
of fresh fingers pressing
my keys in so long?

Am
I a trend
waiting for something
thinner to take my place?

Will
they think me broken
by their misunderstandings
or when my ribbon is torn?

Where
will they place me
When
I no longer function?

Who
will come after me?

How
long will it take
to end up behind
a wall of glass?