Mornings, I used to run.
Nights, I think of the past.
It runs through my brain,
like a mouse in a maze,
with no hope for escape.
The moon looks at me with
what I call sadness,
since she’s the mother
of most of our unhappiness.
The stars are so distant,
they know nothing of me.
They’re somewhere
up in heaven, where
my dreams used to be,
but it’s too far for me to see.
Bionote
George Freek's poem "Enigmatic Variations" was recently nominated for Best of the Net. His poem "Night Thoughts" was also nominated for a Pushcart Prize.
Nights, I think of the past.
It runs through my brain,
like a mouse in a maze,
with no hope for escape.
The moon looks at me with
what I call sadness,
since she’s the mother
of most of our unhappiness.
The stars are so distant,
they know nothing of me.
They’re somewhere
up in heaven, where
my dreams used to be,
but it’s too far for me to see.
Bionote
George Freek's poem "Enigmatic Variations" was recently nominated for Best of the Net. His poem "Night Thoughts" was also nominated for a Pushcart Prize.
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