My latest five-line, original poem. Enjoy this song I listened to while I crafted it. As is sometimes the case, the poem and the music sort of melded together.
i saw sisyphus pushing the moon up a hill;
on the other side was a pile of waiting leaves.
the moon was hot to the touch, but he persisted;
his hands found the grooves of its dead volcanoes.
then it tumbled backward, shining all the way.