Freedom

Oh, Freedom
What a rush of life
The thought itself a nectarous plum
Like sickly sweet honey,
fresh from the beehive
And yet her brows are glum
A sister, a mother, a daughter, a wife
Down her wistful eyes turn
Averted, her gaze falls to the side
She swallows, tempted. How could she succumb?
Oh, Freedom. Yes it is...
The taste of new breath, so divine
A sinful drop on her tongue
It is a battle of wrong and right
But what is wrong and what is right?
When naked under the moonlight,
she twists and writhes and yearns
Yet, when the sun shall rise,
She will return
To her glass cage, silent plight
She has kissed the sun
A forgotten smile on her lips
The sound of drums
Another morn and she will be fine
Lulled in a daze, dreaming Freedom
Eyes glazed, watching the sky
She whispers, "Freedom…"