Cinquains by Debra Woolard Bender

Awake
between two days,
passed away, yet to be;
I, in the middle of this dream,
alone.

cherry --
the smell of smoke
from Dad's old burl-wood pipe
his green wool tam and blue-grey eyes
fading

Two things
Have come to me
Although I never asked:
Resolve to live in solitude
And you.

And how
shall sea to wave
and back to sea again
return, but not a wave return
unchanged?