An attempt at Haibun and Haiku

I kept writing her letters. I wrote about the apricot tree below which we used to kiss, the flowing river on the banks of which, with fingers entwined, we had dreamt together of our lunar house. I wrote about the pangs in my heart when she was not with me.

Her parents did not approve of me. They felt I was not successful enough. She was not that strong and was married off to a merchant. I continued writing to her. She never replied.

lovebirds kiss

Mona Lisa auctioned

adorned

 

I heard much later about her suicide. Did she miss me so much? Why did she not reply to my letters then?

 

quiet cemetery 

The eclipsed moon

screams