A poem, after The Trees, by Philip Larkin
The stars are blooming on the Goodreads Page.
Reviewing is a kind of grief,
We wait with fear and hope and rage.
Each kindly word is sweet relief.
The readers measure, judge, and speak,
Our labours handed to their tender care.
Our ratings ebb and flow, then peak,
So tardy friends bring ripe despair.
We bookmark sites, and fearing death
Will come before our friends’ review,
We tap to see the stars anew.
Refresh, Refresh, Refresh