Haiku 175

Two hundred miles away,
they offered to pay his taxi fare
for Christmas. Parents.


If I could be young again,
not a target for gangs of time
and the bullying years,
dwarfed by their iniquities,
but as light as a warbler
through rays of sun
or an elf in woods
where no one minds me.
Once more, I’m there…
then a banging on the wall
as they drill into my brain
I am not young again.