2017年02月01日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 249th. week

That woman, a bit wet, to feel by her leg.
Haze in spring, to bow their heads, and flying spores. Or, spring is over, to bow their heads, and flying spores.
To pack up, as the bottom of a kettle, burned on.
With shallow wit, turning in a circle, muddy his eye does.
On the stairs, sounds of her high‐heeled, chasing them.

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