Trapped in the meter,
  a prisoner of rhyme

My spirit indicted,
  destroyer of time

A minstrels disciple,
  epistle in hand

The sound and the rhythm,
  my souls contraband

New couplets my jailer,
  their sentences terse

The key to their freedom,
  locked deep in the verse

And serving in silence,
  chalk marks on the wall

I listen intently,
  for one voice to call

Awaiting its pardon,
  this conviction will end

My words liberated,
—to forever portend

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2017)