Categories
Poetry

The Night Music

By George Freek

THE NIGHT MUSIC 
(After Liu Yong)

My clock ticks like
an incessant toothache.
Clouds soft as pillows
smother the moon,
as I sit beside the river.
All night I hear waves
beat the shore, as if
it were a door
they can’t open.
A bird shrieks from
joy or from fear.
Life is often unclear.
I’m nearing sixty.
I still have no idea
who I am, or why
I’m even here.

George Freek’s poetry has recently appeared in The Ottawa Arts Review, Acumen, The Lake, The Whimsical Poet, Triggerfish and Torrid Literature.

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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

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