The moon, a coin in a velvet sky,
is spent on shadows drifting by.
The trees stand stark against the night,
their branches etched in silver light.
And in the quiet, in the deep,
where city secrets go to sleep,
I find a path I’ve walked before—
a ghost that lingers at my door.
Each memory, a whispered name,
each passing car, a fading flame.
The wind, a sigh, a lonely tune,
beneath the ever-changing moon.
Next, a haiku about nature
Green leaf on the branch,
trembling in the softest breeze,
catches morning sun.
And a short, reflective verse
The coffee steams and the day begins,
a page turned over, where hope begins.
The past is written, the ink is dry,
a brand new chapter under the sky.
What will you write? What will you see?
The choice is yours, for you are free.
Finally, a whimsical poem
The clock has tick-tocked to a stop,
the mouse has fled the kitchen mop.
The slippers dance a waltz of glee,
the teapot sings in harmony.
The teacup laughs a silver sound,
the sugar cubes jump all around.
The jam jar tells a funny tale,
and wonders if the moon is pale.
When no one’s looking, that is when,
the magic starts to happen then.
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