The Walk Back Alone

The Walk Back Alone

this poem completes the diptych, “A Stranger at Sunset” being the first panel …

the streetlamp stands tall,
a lighthouse guiding my footsteps back —
heartbeats pound my chest:
a rhythmic sound like horse-hooves,
from the tall grasses crickets chirp
out of tempo,
tonight I am bewildered
by this strange evening music —

at the dormitory
I pace the yellow tiled floor,
from a distance
young ladies sit at study tables
with their tea and textbooks —

the night deepens,
I tremble like a leaf in the wind,
gravity forsakes me,
I walk with the stars
light years away,
I am lost in a place
no map can locate —

after restless sleep
another day blossoms in the sky:
a seed within me
stirs from its slumber
awakened
by the stranger at sunset.

D. G. Vachal © 2025

Image by J. Plenio @pixabay

A Stranger at Sunset

A Stranger at Sunset

the sky was light mandarin
the first time we met
you, a stranger from far away,
my task to welcome you
to our land
for just a few hours —

you and I
walked to the bus stop
you with your crisp white shirt
long sleeves,
creaseless
I with a topsy-turvy skirt,
mismatched blouse
checkered,
floral,
yellow, pink, and green —

shy and tongue-tied was I
you spoke on through my silence
your footsteps
confident
upon the cobbled streets
while I stumbled on —

you found a place for us to dine,
a table where the light fell soft
upon your face
for the first time
I looked into your eyes
as you looked into mine —

the dusty red bus brought us back
to the same stop
there we said goodbye
your smile lighted the night’s darkness
it was then I knew
I would see you again.

D. G. Vachal ©2025

Image by ELG21 @pixabay

A Cold December Night and the Rain

A Cold December Night and the Rain

A cold December night and the rain
pummels the rooftops,
drops colorless pearls
on the kitchen window
my reflection
cloudy on the wet glass,
as icicle fingertips put away
pots and pans where they belong
hidden
until tomorrow’s bidding —

Long ago on a cold December night like this
while the rain pummeled the rooftops,
a porcelain cup broke gently,
delicate Saxon flowers
shattered on the floor
as I knelt to collect the broken pieces,
soft footsteps walked towards the door
and in an eternal moment
the door closed
slowly
like an ebbing tide —

A cold December night and the rain
pummels my heart
and once again
the rain brings me back to a place
of scattered Saxon flowers,
a broken porcelain cup
that once was whole.

D. G. Vachal © 2025

Image by AnNeef @ Pixabay

Love Haiku 49:51

Love Haiku 49:51

49

you have gone away
with torrential summer rains
fall river lies low

50

wind moans through the cliffs
murmurs through leafless birches
I whisper your name

51

dusk falls on water
golden colors linger long
I yearn for your smile

D. G. Vachal © 2025

Image by Aleksandr Gorlov, Public Domain, via Wikimedia Commons

The Years, My Friend

Winter by Farhad
The Years, My Friend

The years, my friend, have not been kind
upon your marble face —

I hear the river songs
tinkle with the cymbals,
I see your eyes shrivel
like unpicked grapes on the vine,
your mouth a wounded cherry
pecked by restless robins.

Take my hand, my friend,
let us go to the calling fields
that blaze with diamonds
under the eternal skies,
to the orchards in the midst of winter,
where leafless branches stand dauntless
in the endless cold,
telling jubilant tales
in the blizzard of their days —

Hearken to the legends
of root, of bud, of sun,
and to the promise
(believe the promise)
that warmth and springtime
will return,
(they always return)
once again.

by D. G. Vachal © 2013, 2025

*** Photography by Farhad