Abandoned Factory

Global Haiku Traditions, 2017

by

Georgia Martindale & Friends

Abandoned Factory

abandoned factory—
we go exploring
dried leaves crunch

the sky darkens
from the distant storm clouds

two red iron doors
heavy to open
creaking. . .

footsteps splash
through muddy puddles

moonlight reflected
in her big eyes
glistening

laughing loudly
breaking the eery silence.

•

touching icy steel
the hand quickly
pulls away

metal staircase
an untied shoelace.

rain water drips
through a crack
in the ceiling

drip drip drip
drums onto the concrete.

they hold hands—
legs dangling
she playfully kicks him.

•

their voices echo
through the open room

through a window
streams of moonlight
flow like currents

their bodies bathed
in the midnight light.

thunder roars
the building shakes
metal strikes

pinging of the rainfall
hitting the roof

single cherry blossom
wrinkled and muddy
stuck to my shoe

the crisp air
causes me to shake.

•

A door creaks open . . .
nothing there but
wind

the tall pines sway
back and forth

she slips on a puddle
broken phone
shattering

we look around
for the sound’s source

homeless man
rolls over
in a sleeping bag.

sigh of relief
we head back to the car

•

running in the rain
carelessly

frogs croak
in the tall grass
surrounds me

treading through
the thin woods path

mosquitos bite
at their victim’s ankles
stinging

the moon beams
soaking him in light.

rusted car
with a brake light
broken

•

the car hums to life
windshield wipers screech

heavy eyes
leaning back
radio static

he hums to himself
while he thinks I’m asleep

tapping his hand
on the steering wheel
matching the rain

dozing off—
everything begins to fade

• • •