(no subject)

[fk_season_id]

A world surrounding,
new home that is not.
Posters on the wall once tolerated
now a mark of this prison.
The scent--bars.  The sun guards.
A rush of adrenaline, glass breaks.
The cool smell of cut grass in the night.
Freedom, but where to run?
Streets and curbs, crosswalks, traffic lamps.
Pulse pounding, in free flight.
The city descends to the skyline,
specs of light mere wisps of the past.
Acacia flowers and wet earth.
Wind rushing over a trivial summit.
Home, spirit at ease.