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title
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

George Freek


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After You've Departed

Summer's flowers are gone.
All I see are the decaying remains.
The trees are empty.
It's hard to remember
when leaves were there.
In the garden an empty hammock
creaks in a bitter wind.
Winter has now lumbered in.
I talk to my cat,
to the moon and the stars.
They have nothing to say.
I think of the aroma of roses.
For a moment, it's sweet.
But I can't make it stay.