Imprisoned Spring, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Feeling my young blood racing within me
Like a feral horse running to and fro
Being fenced in, but not wanting to be.
Like the big sky is I ought to be free.
To have the flight of a brazen eagle.
Cast away these mental fettering chains
Is a desire that I constantly mull.
But day after day there aren’t any gains.
Could it possibly be that I am wrong?
That I am much safer staying within
Though of my mind and body being strong.
If ever when will my freedom begin?
All that remains is to frequently pray,
When the morrow comes I will fly away.