The new day still saw the man
Whose livelihood was rubber.
He had worked really hard; earning his darkened tan,
He was the plantation's tapper.
The evening sun had long set
Leaving the plantation in a shroud of darkness.
Relying on what little light the moon would let.
He treaded carefully; sidestepping potholes and jutting buttress.
His sack slung over one shoulder,
He found his way to his trusty ride.
Nightly routine he would execute over and over
Mounted his bicycle and rode off with the moon as guide.
All day long, he had been thinking of the night before.
He had then learnt that he was the target of a ghostly trick.
As he cycled, he got worked up, more and more...
He cursed the spirit who had made him the fool so quick!
As he looked ahead, straining his eyes to discern the sandy track.
His eyes caught something that came within sight.
Standing by the side against a background of black.
There she was again...all garbed in white...
To be continued...
Based on a story I heard
tell the world she's the girl who looks happy
and the girl who is secretly lonely
Tell me where to sell
my soul, and I will meet you
there; ode to myself.
Of the haiku series
iv. odes & suicides
© Copywrite Skaidrum
Every morning I wake up,
I lose you all over again.
How many times do I have to let you go?
All of my sadness
Is amplified when you’re not here
It’s not than I’m not happy
But I really miss you my dear