Freedom.

Squirrel on my window,
Quarrels with my trammelled soul.
Freedom you sense, freedom you sow.
For the world to clap, you'd put on a show.
The circles you run ceaseless,
The circles of covetousness.
Fire in that flesh and fire in that bone.
Freedom of being high,
Freedom to be wretchedly alone.
It's the face of the world,
Or the world in one face?
All petals of the whorl disgrace.
A time to rend, a time to sew.
Breathe in that air and start anew.

The souvenir.

The wind blowing as heavy as a sigh
Like a subdued whisper budges me to fly.
For it’s your day,
They say
You don’t want me to linger.
But I have got the night to remember
Etched in there, like a souvenir.

And it’s your day, they say.
So, I move myself out of your sight.
And Let all the dreams reframe.
Yes, I have lived the night.
Neath those stars, so tranquil and serene.

And now it’s time, I bid “good”bye.
Now’s the time I shall fly.
Away from the ocean, the night, the glistening shrimps.
I so Wish I could catch that “one last glimpse”.

But there’s no more pain.
The sun is bright,
And the clouds drape around, so soft.
While I journey through the skies aloft.
I still see your face in those cottony clouds
And hear those voices dumb aloud.

Then I shut myself from the world outside
Coz the voices seemed to loudly deride.

It’s just my breath and the clock’s tickin’,
I found my soulful peace within.
And I still got that night to remember
Etched in there, like a souvenir.