2017年07月05日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 271st. week

The bridge washed away, also to reserve and to give a nod, a collection day for.
On the sixth day after his death, a press‐up also, the season of will come.
At the stairs, someone on the bottom of, in the summer he has slept.
On the edge of a pupil, to paint it black, your name.
On it's last moments, to have parboiled, just roots of a cabbage.

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