NIGHT CONVERSATIONS (After Mei Yao Chen) I watch a chilly night arrive. Leaves die on the trees, unable to survive. Will I be afraid when it’s my turn to die? I tell myself words that are probably lies. Clouds solid as mountains disappear from the sky. Death is as mysterious as is life to me. I talk to my cat. He’s concerned with a worm. He’s incredibly wise. He pays no attention when I tell him my lies.
About the Author: George Freek’s poetry has appeared in numerous Journals and Reviews. His poem “Written At Blue Lake” was recently nominated for a Pushcart Prize.
Image Credit: Alfred William Finch An August’s Night (1898) Image courtesy of Artvee
As It Ought To Be 