Pre-Covid-19,
small town
just want to be home bones
rattle into the local post office.
Older than old after excruciating day
grateful; the line is short.
A small crowd shuffles in.
Buzzing draws my gaze from floor to behind.
Dream stands there, haloed with life.
Room long forgot opens.
Runaway information slams me senseless:
starving cougar snarls
blackbirds flush my heart
mind swirls misty.
Private desperation screams
don’t stare.
Don’t.
Stare.
One furtive glance makes your discomfort clear.
Defensive wall does not stop
roar of attraction.
Shattered
shards of glass at our feet reflect disaster.
Hidden by frump,
I have no breath to fight, BreathTaker.
You are beautiful, and too young.
Cloak of unworthiness is
small comfort to Shame.
Society rules
this day in the post office.
I walk away.
If by chance another day,
we meet in this dimension,
would I step through that open door?
In the long forgot room
would I close my mind?
Would I open heart?
Would I stay?
Post Script Haiku
You opened your heart.
I stepped in and I sat down.
Here, I plan to stay.
Connection 
Very good!🙂
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