She stands, it calls her
From the cold and damp, stale air
These walls - a cage now
Orange flowers a scatter
Past the plethora
To the quiet green, she moves
Shadowed sussurus
Of leaves, root and soil afoot
They whisper. She stops,
And settles into the grass
Her eyes, blinking slow
Cool gusts move
through her fingers

Softly, she exhales
She didn't know she'd withheld
That breath -
Now a tear