2022年05月04日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 503rd. week

Being miscarried, only a baby, surviving. Or, swept away, only a baby, surviving.
Putting up her umbrella, tired of waiting her old customer, a prostitute maybe.
With pagans for him, clinging together, on one boat. Or, with pagans for him, clinging together, as strange bedfellows.
Because of keeping his secrets, fatty in my mouth, gold chains there for a gag.
The husband running away, tracing his paramour gone, though. Or, the husband running away, routed out by his paramour gone, though.

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