The sun is light is freedom.
Feeling my body in motion.
The tune of trinkets at my side.
The confidence of safety.
The door is thick dark steel.
The barrels turn under the command of my key.
The dank still air
Smells of musty concrete and new paint.
The slab is cold and hard.
Layers of old old paint and ancient scrawls
Dance on the walls.
Love pledges to long forgotten faces.
The clank of the cell door and catch of the lock.
Blare out their call of home.
photo by: Blue Sharpie