Trapped in a tower
A blue bird in an ivory cage
Open the cracking oak-crusted hatch
I descend the staircase.
The stairs are as cold as night
Ice biting my feet
Find a rotting door left locked
Beside the stone wall.
Fists folded into balls of fire
Freedom, a second grasp away
I break through the old barracade
And clamber over the scattered brick lintel.
Life flowing through the grooves in my palm
Grass blades between toes
I resist the urge to flee
To stop and stare across the meadow.
About the Creator
Mya Doerksen
Hi there, I'm a student, a writer and an aspring author. At the moment I'll mostly be posting shorts, school assignments or challenge submissions.
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More stories from Mya Doerksen and writers in Poets and other communities.
Golinda and Gallopatrot go to the Emerald Isle
The short days were getting longer. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the blue hour created the magic of the darkest phase of twilight. It was time to put Oliver to bed. Yaya felt the muse come alive when he asked for a story.
By Katherine D. Grahama day ago in Wander
Comments (1)
The imagery here was so vivid! I loved this poem!