I want to write of nature.
I want to write of mountains.
I want the white waters of the rivers
To engulf me,
Coldly calming my swollen heart.
But I am only in an office park devoid of green.
These towers are like trees,
But lifeless and alone am I
Even in the crowd around me.
I want the smell of the soil.
I want the fractals of sun through the leaves.
Take my hand tightly and guide me
'Cross the slippery stones along this path.
My favorite things are those photogenic flowers...
The ones here don't grow quite the same,
Trapped in a small patch of dying dirt.
I look at that concrete cage and think of me.
I want to write of nature, but there are only mirrors
Of the glass miles high that show me exactly where I was never meant to be.