Escape
My father drove a tractor
when I was a child
He raised black and tan coon hounds
And hunted the wild
When father wasn't looking
I'd go into their pen
crawl up inside the doghouse
So small and dark within
In explaining my notion
Felt safe starring out the door
World outside so far away
Like being in the womb once more
Copyright © Terry Riley | Year Posted 2009
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