haiku poetry

one with you
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
to the passionate lover
the darkness steals the forms of all the queens
as i lie roofed in, screened in
better than granite
simply speaking
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
i reside at table mountain
friend, whose smile has come to be
their beautiful hair
for then without
let us plant
i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst