Sep 22, 2006
Late Night Haiku XVII
By Timothy R Butler | Posted at 5:56 AM
XXXXVII. Anticipation,
A rushing stream runs by me,
Where do those waves go?
XXXXVIII. Thoughts drift like a kite,
Quiet, lest I stir the night,
Lower from this great height.
XXXXVIX. A fish once read Twain's
Huck Fin. He never finished.
He had finite time.
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Late Night Haiku
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