The Breeze On the Sunday Morning
The calming, free breeze,
In the light of a Sunday,
Is most beautiful.
My Dreams
There was a dream In which I was staring at a person, Just like me, Perhaps a foot taller. She was talking to someone, Someone named Jack, Someone who was well-respected. Surprisingly, Jack was bowing, Bowing at her, that person. Suddenly, she started walking towards me. She, who had a smile of roses, And eyes that needed to discover something. That sparkle was familiar, but hard to remember. She turned, breaking through my thoughts as someone called her. Her jet black hair was thrown into my eyes as she was told to walk into a room. I followed her, out of curiosity. Where was she going? I need to see her once more. As I walked through the door, I was confused. It was a stage. I looked around and then found her. She was on stage, singing. The melody rang through my ears, As if a bird was chirping, a drop of rain falling. I swayed with the music, But it stopped. It was over. The lady came back to the door a...
I like this haiku. When I think about a typical Sunday, I think about everything stated in this short poem! Good job! Please write more of these
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