I used to dream of running
to a cottage by the sea,
or a cabin in the woods,
where I could breathe
and I could be.
I would write, and I’d hope
and I’d heal and I’d pray,
and I wouldn’t come back,
until all was ok.
But I never ran,
and I never roamed,
‘Cause if I left til I was better
than I’d never come back home.
poems.
