In the wee small hours
when all good people do sleep
a poem did creep.
It crept all around
seeking a place to gestate
into a sonnet.
However, when pushed,
the poem just decided
to be three haiku.
In the wee small hours
when all good people do sleep
a poem did creep.
It crept all around
seeking a place to gestate
into a sonnet.
However, when pushed,
the poem just decided
to be three haiku.