small pond.

sparkling silver
shone,
lit by moonbeams and
brightly wound
like spooled thread that
yearns to
break free.
could never be contained,
i.
just as
water pressedintosmallspaces
b u r s t s f o r t h
did i
grow too tall for the pine trees in the forests of this town.
my legs stretched past the city limits
when i sat and
stretched my limbs.
i touched foreign lands
and knew nothing but
" i've got to get out of here . "
quoted in my mind
hundreds of thousands of times
one voice
one pitch
one thought.
"run."


i've still yet to move.
i've still yet to go.
one voice
one pitch
one thought.
"run"
resonates throughout my being
as i sit,
arms up,
fingers tracing the surface of the moon.








i'll be there soon.