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Poetry

Poetry by George Freek

IN DECEMBER 
(Inspired by Du Fu, Tang Dynasty Poet)

The trees and the clouds
sway easily in the wind.
But beyond my vision,
stars are dying.
The sky is a lonely grave.
In the mirror, my face
looks rough. I need a shave.
With the winter snow,
the birds have vanished to
wherever they go.
Will I be here when
they come again?
Such thoughts go better
with wine, if at all.
I look out my window,
watching snow as it falls.
settling quietly like a pall.

Courtesy: Creative Commons

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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