My Writing

The rain and lightning and thunder pound down,
the howling wind whines;

I go to close my blinds, and there's a woman,
on the swings,
that lives behind my home.

The wind and rain pour over her
And yet she is swinging high and free.

Unknown to the future, forgotten by the past,

She lives here, now.

I first thought she was crazy.
But then, I felt jealous.

I want to be her, outside of my home, with her.
Being free.

Yet I chose to stay inside instead.
no one forced me to.

I just did. It felt like what I was supposed to do.

But since when should we do what we're supposed to do? Why? How? Where and When?

I change my mind.
Here. Now.

Because I can.

She's not crazy.
She is free.