By George Freek
POEM AFTER OU YANG HSIU In my younger days, I was arrogant, thinking I was wise. I had friends, who reassured me. Now they’re dead, and I’m sixty-five. I took to wine. It helped, but life moves by so fast, nothing lasts. Alone, I watch the river and its eternal flow. I sip a cup of tea, listening to clamouring geese. They make me smile. I think, perhaps, they’re laughing at me.
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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