Prisoner

This world it cruel to use its name Its ruler has a heart of stone, Yet all its prisons that I’ve seen There’s one that’s worse, that stands alone. Its cells of grief are cold I know Its bars are strong with rusty stains, Yet cell on cell with trouble soul Could not compare with simple chains. I stand before my window’s glass There are no bars to block my view, There is no lock upon my door No guard that would I run pursue. I stand and watch the breaking dawn Its beauty call to me to write, Yet when I reach to take y pen I feel the heavy chains pull tight. Though many walled my prison cell And bar less every window frame, The chains of time have bound my wrists Its shackles on each step a strain. Though fall may linger by my door And leaves may carpet all the grass, I look with wish on wish to write Through prison windows barred with glass.