Haiku #6

My mem’ries are doors. All I have to do is knock And they turn for me.

Grandpa

The shaking fingers thread a hook through wiggling worms casting out for me.

Where I Lived Once

I drove by a house where I lived once A dog named Mike is still buried there Many years have passed with the vision Of a hawk with expansive wings and a hunter’s glare Sitting in the backyard It looks like a dollhouse to me…

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