Alba invernale
            Tra le azzurrine vette
            Pigra rimane.
 

                                                           Impigliato tra
                                                           Gl'invernali rimorsi
                                                           Gelo nel cuore.
 
 

                                                                                                              Sù, non piangere
                                                                                                              Persino le alte stelle
                                                                                                              Si spegneranno.
 

            Prima del sonno
            Gioco con sogni vani
            Nero baratro.
 

                                                            M'impaura il cuore
                                                            Di sogni paludosi
                                                            L'ansito oscuro.
 

                                                                                                            Ondeggiano le
                                                                                                            Ampie chiome dei pini
                                                                                                            Scrosci di pioggia.
 
 

            Dietro i vetri
            Osservo la tempesta
            Come in un bozzolo.
 

                                                            Il tempo fugge
                                                            Insegue la mente
                                                            Estati lontane.
 

                                                                                                            Dorato filtra
                                                                                                            Il raggio mattutino
                                                                                                            Sospeso incanto.
 
 

            Vago profumo
            Ti rivedo bambina
            Come in un sogno.
 

                                                            Lontane stelle
                                                            Vaga la mente al loro
                                                            Freddo richiamo.
 

                                                                                                            Fondo incanto
                                                                                                            La notte è un fiume
                                                                                                            Lento e silente.
 
 

            In me dilaga
            A sera l'ora assente
            Buio nel cuore.
 
 
 
 

                                                            Inverno a Roma
                                                            Dolce come un pallido
                                                            Sogno d'estate.
 

                                                                                                            Il tuo sorriso
                                                                                                            Illumina la stanza
                                                                                                            Sole d'inverno.
 
 

            Sul cocuzzolo
            Un bozzolo di case
            Fumo che sale.
 
 

                                                            Alti camini
                                                            In volute a spirale
                                                            Cala la sera
 

                                                                                                            Odor di legna
                                                                                                            Di cibo e di brace
                                                                                                            Finestre chiuse.
 
 

            Tira tramontana
            Il pellegrino sogna
            Deschi fumanti.
 

                                                            Cerchia la cima
                                                            Un bozzolo di case
                                                            Quasi presepio.
 
 

                                                                                                            Bianche volute
                                                                                                            Sentore di Natale
                                                                                                            Limpido cielo.
 
 

            Wisky dorato
            In grembo il gatto
            Spire di fumo.
 
 

                                                            Occhi serrati
                                                            Farfalle colorate
                                                            Il gatto sogna.
 
 

                                                                                                            Sotto il salice
                                                                                                            La mente si disperde
                                                                                                            Bianca nuvola.
 
 

            L'altra mattina
            Una ridda di versi
            Come dirli?
 
 

                                                            Come un rimorso
                                                            In sogno sei tornata
                                                            Brusco risveglio.
 
 

                                                                                                            Il nostro amore
                                                                                                            Già così rigoglioso
                                                                                                            Ecco sfiorisce.
 
 

            Un altro Haiku?
            Tutto è stato detto
            Non insistere.