After years of chasing paper
my bones have turned to stone
I search for a chance to escape
Freedom beckons
A call to spread wings that have been clipped
if only for a day
A moment to feel the sun’s warmth on my face
To get lost in a trance and dream of bubbling fountains
cascading on serene waters of the pristine lake
A respite to replenish what was lacking
before stone turns to dust
before paper wins the race
photo: mine
