Doctor

A haiku with a quiet reflection

Photo by Hush Naidoo Jade Photography on Unsplash

forget-me-nots
the doctor’s
quiet diagnosis

—

Forget-me-nots gather quietly in their small blue clusters, their name carrying a tenderness that seems almost too precise for the moment. Somewhere nearby, a doctor speaks softly, careful words entering a room that may never feel quite the same again.

The diagnosis does not need to be spoken loudly to alter what comes after. Perhaps the murmur is kindness, or simply the instinct to soften something that cannot be made easier.

Outside, the flowers remain what they were before the words were said. Yet their familiar name now seems to hold another meaning, touching on memory, absence, and the quiet fear of losing what once felt certain. Sometimes the gentlest words are the ones that continue sounding long after the room has fallen silent.

First published on NaHaiWriMo.

Curious how these small moments become haiku? I’ve written a short guide called The Three-Minute Haiku System, which shows a simple way to turn an observation into a draft haiku in just a few minutes.