Sunday, June 23, 2013

Freedom

Give me open skies
walking barefoot through darkness.
No judgement.
No fear.
Freedom.

Give me a moment of solitude
while sitting in a crowd of people.
No pressure.
No stress.
Freedom.

Give me stale cigarettes
whispering forgotten memories.
No attachment.
No regret.
Freedom.

Give me a place to call home
where I can think, dream, and grow.
No limitations.
No destruction.
Freedom.


2 comments:

  1. Love the stanza that begins with "stale cigarettes" that one spoke to me

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks. When I wrote this poem I actually wrote that one first, I couldn't get that part out of my head.

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