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.


Please enter your comment entry below. Press 'Preview' to see how it will look.

Sign In to Your Account
:mrgreen: :neutral: :twisted: :arrow: :shock: :smile: :???: :cool: :evil: :grin: :idea: :oops: :razz: :roll: :wink: :cry: :eek: :lol: :mad: :sad: :!: :?: