Haiku is on my shoe;
the laces cross five, seven, then five.

Haiku is a shade of blue,
stretching the clouds five, seven, then five.

Haiku will sometimes moo,
discontented and branded five, seven, then five.

Haiku is my glue,
repairing broken pieces of five, seven, then five.

Haiku is my courage in lieu,
with the strength of men added five, seven, then five.

Haiku knows what to do,
with a list of things numbered five, seven, then five.

Haiku gives a tiny clue,
that life can change five, seven, then five
 
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