'soft asylum' haiku set

yesterday's highways
flash before my gray-blue eyes
like lost 'purple hills'

now the bath-robe hangs
on the French doors by sundry
gray cashmere sweaters

the cup-boards are full
of crackers and teas, the nights
shine with werewolf dreams

the coffee-table
sprawls with books, polished head-stones
of madmens' brave memes

outside the roses sparkle
as if touched by the soft light
of Saint Christopher