Licked by the tongues of summer heat,
The day burns slowly into ashes.
As though a teardrop from the lashes,
A drop of ink falls on the sheet
And I, as lonesome as that dot,
A single mark upon the page,
Sit locked inside an opened cage,
In endless space can’t find my spot.
I search but do not see a reason
Why full of images and thought
I cannot write a single word,
Why being free I feel imprisoned.