Behind bars. Around the clock. Drape.
No chance to escape from rectangular shape.
No way to obey.
Just a new day, silly and gray.
The bars of my soul.
Like a golden mole in the depth of his burrow-
Never to find the spring of my sorrow.
Always to try. Ever proceed. Breathtaking speed.
When heather in bloom, I wish I'd presumed
Life-giving honey to taste.
Then, without haste, I could embrace...
A new sunny day, windy and gay.
......
Still straying in the Milky Way
Like me. Like you. Like they.