Freedom

There is something that we all search for when age, something lost, left in our youths.

Once, Twice, He looks around
Can't believe where it went
Doesn't understand how such a thing could be lost
Is it here? No. Is it there? No.
Is it up above? Or maybe down below? No.
Where could it be?
It was just there, only a moment ago.
He takes to the streets.
The shopkeepers windows? That alley just around the corner? No.
He runs against the crowd.
Searching. They shout at him, curse him.
“You're in the way.” So they say.
"Can't you see? I only want what was taken from me."
Where could it have gone?
So he searches. Searches for so long.
Trudging feet pass the day
For his head, A place to lay, to turn night into day
“You cannot stay. This is no place that you can lay.”
“But sir, from my search I cannot stray.”
“Boy, your search is no concern of mine.”
So on the streets he will stay.
Just as the day, this night shall pass away.