Somewhere inside me there is a child, looking out
From a window; a prison of my own making.

Where all of the possibilities of youth shout,
Frustrated at being walled away from life.

My imagination is the only way out
Bursting forth from inside, with energy rife.

If I could free the child and escape the redoubt,
Who knows what wonderful fires I could set alight.

The child is patient, chipping away at the walls,
If he can live long enough, he might be free.

“The Prison”

^{by
Jerry E Smith
©5/25/17}

^{These .gifs were created for me by @coquiunlimited; many thanks}