She inhaled the sweet smells
of the soft, crisp, summer winds.
She touched the pink shells
on the white, coral sands.
She grabbed her pad
and retrieved her blue pen.
She began to add
words to her starting poem.
She described the ocean
as blue as a bird's feathers.
She watched the waves motion
in a brisk yet calming way.
She wrote and wrote
as the wind blew the pages
She noticed a small boat
hitting against the waves.
She finished her write
and felt an amazing feeling.
She knew it would be a great night
for a calm, breezy walk.

Her blue pen
scribbles
on new, fresh
paper
but her mind
trembles
somewhere
elsewhere.

Up the stairs
she would climb
Into the attic
at night-time.
Her little legs
crawled up each stair
and soon she discovered
what was up there.
Antiques from all kinds
of things she had never seen.
The attic was quite dusty
as if it had never been cleaned.
She scattered through every box
and discovered a trunk.
She searched for a key
and found one under some junk.
She opened it to find a photo
of someone with her.
She looked closely.
The person was unfamiliar.

Through the night
and through the day.
I will fight
and I will stay.
Through the trial
and through the victory.
I will push through every mile
until I am free.