Tuesday, June 25, 2019

Bad Haiku

Like the old man from down the street
last night I found the moon
wandering around my garden.

Full moon.
I tossed and turned all night
in your shadow.

With a scrap of paper
the flowers light their lamps.

The doors are closed. The house is closed.
There are no metaphors.

Lost, I stopped in the street
to ask. But the pretty blue flowers
refused to say which way to go.

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