Haiga Archive

how softly
his wizened cheeks
wear tears

nightshift at MoMA
the cleaning squad
has breakfast
at the Brueghel

sunny morn
my hands tremble
with the winter chill

morning’s glory
sapphire blossoms
my daughter’s eyes
from the first smile
still sparkling

family
we are bound to each other
by welds of steel
there is no separating one
without the whole losing strength

striking a chord
with the concert pianist…
tempo allegro

morning mourning
the light
not so light