Seven haiku

Summer splashes in
the pool, fuzzy sweaters in
winter--a child's carefree life.


Dribble, jump, turn and
air ballet before the swoosh--
fist bumps and back slaps.


Squealing tires up
the block, held tightly in my
angry pinhole sight.


Empty apartment--
now home to random trash and
chilly, weeping ghosts.


Not a sad goodbye--
skinny arms around me and
her cheek on my chest.


Bags of groceries fill
my car's trunk, as Dad stands, arms
clasped, held behind him.


A soft purr at my
side, the soundtrack to a dark
night in my green room.