I'm writing a shisan renga,
I hope you won't mind,
leaving pieces of me
for you to find.
Slowly, with care
to my one, only Muse
I write, regretting only
the times I was obtuse.
A little something,
a feather touch
to your throat
little can be much.
Unended, this verses I end,
as I prepare to leave
to the station, at seven,
I'll be there, your thief.
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