It’s a freedom
but it confines us.
We choose some occupations
while many are denied us.
.
We. value more
a simple pleasure -
sun, warmth or light;
a songbird warbling.
.
We feast our eyes on
trumpeting daffodils
vying for attention with
the hues of blossom.
.
We relish our release from
deadlines, routines,
calls and obligations.
.
We know but don’t speak
the cost though.
And we realise the obscenity
of our good fortune
.
compared to the greater obscenity
of living
ten stories up.
No garden.
No balcony.
No problem
.
And while our hearts ache
to feel the silky hair
of our grandchildren,
we recognise,
deeply thankful,
the exquisite nature of our prison.
.
© Copyright Gillian Bonwick - THACS Writers Online 2020