Bed bent wall bound,
less human now as
broken into this square.
Run five fingers
feather light, to
feel walls behind
these closed eyes.
A stony glance
holds a soul
eternal captive, hate
an emotional geometry.
Stone four squared.
Secrets whispered
ear to ear.
Shed tears, wet straw.
Awake, a greeting of
dawn light under the door.
Dream in winds
and creaking trees,
a soul free to run
and run,
until breath is not sufficient.
©️ Dai Fry 7th May 2020.