I open my window,
and breathe the spring air.
I gaze at the new moon.
Tonight, it’s incredibly clear.
I hear the crickets,
hidden in the grass,
and I’m lost in memories
of springs past. Alone,
I toast this New Year
with a glass of old wine.
I’ll soon be fifty-five.
The stars in the sky surround me,
but bring me no cheer.
They are so far away,
and they have been dead
for millions of years.

Author : George Freek

George Freek is a poet/playwright living in Belvidere, IL. His poetry has recently appeared in ‘Torrid Literature’; ‘The Chiron Review’; ‘Off Course Review’; and ‘The Adelaide Magazine’. His plays are published by Playscripts, Inc.; Lazy Bee Scripts; and Off The Wall Plays.