I’m now at loose ends.
I’m tired, not so much
of the same flowers,
or the same wrens,
as of the same feelings
ascribed to them.
I hear a clock ticking
like a toothache.
The sky appears to me
as an endless sea.
I watch the leaves fall
from my maple tree,
and it is unnerving. It is
like sitting in the dark,
with eyes unable to see,
and praying there
is a chair beneath me.
~ George Freek
George Freek is a poet/playwright living in Belvidere, IL. His poetry has recently appeared in ‘The Lake’; ‘The Stillwater Review’; ‘Hamilton Stone Review’; ‘The New Plains Review’; and ‘Literature Today’. His plays are published by Havescripts, Inc., Playscripts, Inc.; and Lazy Bee Scripts (UK).