Wednesday, 1 July 2026

A Poem a Day (747): Freedom

 
Freedom
 
Black cats creep on neon signs,
walk sublime, echo you in mime,
come to find you lurking, somewhat stilted.
Tap the shine. You devour wine, red,
converse a while, dance on cirrus clouds
a dream of being something other
than who you are – what you could’ve been.
 
It takes a while to remember you
sometimes. When the sun slides, sparks,
as the full moon rolls in on breaking waves,
and rain flees order in its tin timult,
you might find your own centre, still,
rediscover how night falls,
eclipsing iron structures, gilded cages,
long bent out of fashion, eaten by rust,
find who you always wished to be.
 
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, June 27, 2026


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