Still dozy with lack of sleep, she looks out through the French doors, and although winter, the garden looks neat and clean, almost fresh, the night’s rain cleansing the detritus that had littered the path, washing it into the gravelled gully and the finality of the drain.
She wishes her soul could be cleansed like that, her sins washed away, for she finds them hard to bear. She had loved him for sure, oh how she had loved him, still loves him. He had become that beautiful heart beating away inside her, giving her completeness, giving her joy.
Then he had left her and despite her pleading would not return. Broken and bitter she had taken awful revenge, and in destroying him she had damned herself forever, her heart heavy with guilt, hers a conscience that could never be salved.
Dark days are ending,
spring offers promise of hope,
weeds litter the path.
Susan has us Poets United has us writing of door(s) – cheers Susan!
Despite reading the prompt yesterday, nothing came to mind, and it was not until this morning, when I looked out of the French doors, that inspiration came. Please note that the words are pure fiction as I haven’t destroyed anyone – yet! :o]
I did take a pic of said doors and garden, but unfortunately can’t locate the up/download thingy, so the image echoes the haiku.
Image: Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
Author: Ernst Schütte