365 Days of Poetry: Day One-Hundred and Sixty-Three

there is a look to freedom.
green, and close to paper.
though you do not write.
unless you have an agenda.

the taste, the taste of freedom.
is soft breezes in your mouth.
a bag of Cheetos at three am.
in bed, with no worry over crumbs.

the smell, so clean and.
bright, no opportunity.
unturned, nostrils full.
of who you used to be.

freedom, there is a sound.
to freedom, music lulling.
me to sleep, a television.
on until waking.

the feel, the feel of freedom.
is the best, but hard to place.
no heat under the covers.
and the painless loss of weight.

freedom, this is the sense.
of freedom, and I.
I am alive.
again.

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About June Faramore

Writer of fantasy, mainstream, and young adult fiction. Poet and sketcher. Mother. I read a lot and love cheese. Guitar playing singer-songwriter. I also enjoy stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk. View all posts by June Faramore

One response to “365 Days of Poetry: Day One-Hundred and Sixty-Three

this side, that side

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