Walking through gray halls
My daughter and I look for a way out
Not yet frantic.
“There goes your old boss,” she says.
“He just went around that corner.”
“He must be presenting at the workshop,” I reply.
I coulda been a presenter.
But I wanted freedom.
Up ahead are steel doors.
We push through to the sunlight,
Take a left turn, and climb up out of concrete walls.
We can walk on the pavement and risk traffic
Or walk on the path beside the road
Leading to narrow ledges
Beside dark pools with lily pads.
That wouldn’t be so hard,
knowing we’re good swimmers
In case we fall off.
So we choose the narrow path
Leading us along mountain overlooks
With steep drop offs – scary but beautiful.
We long for the mountains, my daughter and I.
There’s fence to keep us from falling over the edge.
But what if the fence ends?
(I’ve been fantasizing about a mountain home. Yet I don’t want to have to drive on twisty, steep roads. Freedom often asks for a certain amount of courage. Adventure calls!)