After Basho

Moon echoes

across the floor;

plums ripening in my mouth

The sound of your voice

Blossoms

Falling on my hair

I am a prisoner of wakefulness

Autumn rains

Wash through the street

At the Train Station

Two teenagers, maybe 18 or 19,

hand in hand.

He's wearing a black baker's boy cap,

blonde curly hair.

She's in a black woolen hat,

long golden brown hair.

Running madly to catch a train,

they stop, pause..

giggling as they try to locate platform 5.

Both smile at me enjoying

this moment

of going somewhere

together.

They run off, and are gone.