Walls

I have missed out
on much of the world
simply by being home.

Home must be energy
home is a force field,
it is an aura
that somehow
attaches itself

To structures
made of wood and rain
stone and sweat
cardboard boxes
and hope.

This shelter has
contained me,
Wooed me away
from dewy green grass.

A sly barter
of bed of sand
and blanket of sea,
I kiss the moon
from my bed of cotton,
bed of warmth.

Our hut is lavish
warm in winter,
cool against
summer's cheek.

A voluntary cage
I gaze through glass;
missing the Earth.

Imagining the sound
of a leave detaching
itself from it's
glorious tree,
or the smell of
a butterfly
newly shed of
it's cocoon.

Ignorance's of life.

Less is considered
as we dwell here
in our home.

Tucked inside walls;
Walls of our homes,
walls of our minds.