The Sound of Freedom
She knows
what freedom feels like.
It’s a frisky wind that riffles
and
tickles the hair on her skin,
with a scent as sweet
as her own bed sheets
having steeped in the sun
‘til the day was done.
And it looks like a
lavender-pink-blue sky
with a gaggle
of gossamer clouds wafting by.
(And she’s certain too,
so it must be true:)
the tiniest bite
would be total perfection –
a lusciously, succulent,
tasty confection. But,
the sound of freedom
only breaks her heart
‘cause she’s still in the station
when the train departs.
PSC / 2018
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