Haiku Book

Time’s ticking away,
the seconds are flying by;
minutes close behind.

I found a spare hour,
and I treasured that short time,
and watched it pass on.

What is a lifetime,
except now repeated over,
now, time and again.

We scramble for time,
rush and hurry, stress and strain,
until the bell sounds.

Listen to the night,
you will hear more than silence,
if you really hear.

The rustle of leaves,
on the trees outside the house,
that whisper something.

And in the cities,
the night speaks differently,
louder you might say.

Whatever your place,
when it gets dark listen out,
to the sounds you hear.

There; is much to do,
and I really get tired,
just when I do it.

My office’s a mess,
papers litter the whole floor,
some are important.

It’s time to tidy,
clear the floor and vacuum it,
and discover things.

Well it all went well,
and I found nothing to sell,
but did find a coin.

Travelled to London,
and there I went underground,
to ride on the tube.

People are funny,
some wear masks and others don’t,
some wear it half down.

What is Omicron?
It’s a moronic viral,
that will catch a few.

I got MacDonald’s,
a meal with hot chocolate,
and I enjoyed it.

Here we are again,
another Thursday evening,
with Friday outside.

Yes, Friday will come,
and clothed in that easiness,
that she often wears.

I do have some plans,
for some travel tomorrow,
and to see London.

I staying at home,
and it is working out fine,
just doing my job.

A minor sing it,
like it’s always new and fresh,
and a guitar chord.

My mobile’s alive,
it does things I do not know,
they’re taking over.

So, turn them all off,
close them down and keep them off,
except for those games.

I’m taking my time,
and I am making a plan,
to get my things done,

I do need some help,
maybe a friend to assist,
and spur me along.

If music’s your thing,
and maybe you also sing,
then let’s get it on.

I do not say much,
not that I’ve nothing to say,
it just won’t speak up.

Peeling oranges,
is something I like to do,
with satisfaction.

I am loosing count,
of all the letters I use,
but they do not mind.

The mornings are cold,
but the shower is so warm,
and does wake me up.

Sleep will come knocking,
just about half past midnight,
and chased out at six.

I’m feeling funny,
so they all tell me lately,
but I’m feeling fine.

I like the cold days,
and the fresh wind on my face;
for I am alive.

The robins will sing,
ever hidden in their tree,
but can be friendly.

I only write it,
and I sometimes read it too,
and I edit it.