A cascade
I see you too often these days But do you feel lonely too? You smell like freedom But are you really free?
Whispered of the rusty doors as I slept Why were you even moving at nighttime And at the dawn, you were too cold I see you too often these days
Always rustling everything you touch You have too many places you can go I always wanted to be free like you But do you feel lonely too?
They say freedom and I think about you Never having to stop at the greatest heights The unseen beauty of the beach You smell like freedom
But you whispered something about the pressure this morning Is that what kept you moving? My freedom smells just like you But are you really free?
Librocubicularist soul 
“But are you really free”, nice one. 🙂
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Thanks ❣
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Wow, Aditi… this feels… full of longing and… deep wistfulness.
❤
David
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Thanks ❣
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it gives me chills reading it again…
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good questions
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Ah, the questions that have no specific answers! I like the palpable longing in your verse, Aditi.
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Yes! Thanks for the kind comment ❣
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Aditi,
I just wanna let you guys know that this week’s W3 is now live, and it’s open for new entries until Sunday morning (as usual)!
Much love,
David
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