Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2020
I waited for you by the swing
The oldest among the young
And I think
I am ashamed of my youth

My feet covered the clouds
All the way up, eyes closed
wrangling hands
This is what freedom means

Being mortified
Chasing it nonetheless
Shutting out the world
Pinpointing it to my feet
Written by
undermyfeet  F
(F)   
101
   Cloudydaze
Please log in to view and add comments on poems