In the moment
Children are running, screaming, laughing.
I’m so glad they’re not mine.
I’m free.
Or am I?
Do I do what I want?
Do I know what I want?
I guess I’m free to trap myself with whatever confines I can invent
Schedules. Plans. Labels.
Here’s to structured freedom.
Let’s see if it lasts. or if it should.
Posted on March 24, 2013, in Life, Poetry and tagged life, poem, Poetry. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.
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