Running Wild

take my hand
     walk with me
          through these corridors
where numbered
     doorways
          stairways
               elevators

slide past us
in dull tones
of blue and beige
of grey and sage

hold tight my hand
     run with me
          through these hallways

until the flat surfaces
begin to blur

until
the doors become
ears of corn
the tiles
roll into clods
of dirt
the fluorescent lights
turn into the moon
they were
meant to be

and
we run
through
the fields
letting
the
wet leaves
slap us
across
our
cool faces
and
we laugh
forgetting
our
names

 

© Jilly’s  All Rights Reserved

izquotes

Join me tonight at dVerse Poet’s Pub where I am hosting Poetics and we will be writing Wild.  !!!