Haiku, Book One

Crickets

They are bells that ring

Tonight, a lone orchestra -

She stops to listen.

Compromises

You, me. No one knows

what our hands are for, or do

they clap for others?

On: Death

Blank sheet of paper,

No more ink, diary ends

in unfinished sen--

 Birthdays

Sorry, I forgot;

It is not my best habit.

I'll bring you cake soon.

Love

Some French, German names

(of course, postmodernism - )

we don't understand.