F.H. Lee writes from Oxford County, Ontario, Canada. She embraces the natural world like kin, and has had success with writing contests, published (online and print format) poetry, short fiction, and non-fiction, dating back thirty odd years. Three sons have taken flight, one daughter with special needs remains to help rule the roost. Writing releases the valve, and brings immeasurable satisfaction... "you need to express what it means to be alive" to fully serve humanity with dignity and endurance.
And so began the war for George.
He was an old clock running down
with no one nearby to wind him up.
The two names he was looking for
were on the tip of his tongue
but he could taste nothing.
He forgets decent people exist. Today
he is everyone sharing aches in back
and head, those narrow sleepless nights,
deep discontent for the lost years.
Vibrant jocular stories of old
lost hue and rhyme ages ago.
Mist mottos turn on a breeze.
As another memory evaporates
George finds new life in his daily
battle to scale each tiresome step.