Poem/Haiku

ghosts of yourself moving down the hall
walk away to escape the past
leaving music floating in the air
ghosts of the sound you once made

ghosts of yourself moving down the hall
walk away to escape the past
leaving music floating in the air
ghosts of the sound you once made

Stephen

late august morning
Prickly thorns, brambles galore
sticky stained fingers

Above is a Haiku in response to Gary’s ‘jam’.

late august
brambles
thorns
fingers stained

From Tuesday 16, August 2016

Allan

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