Freelance

He walked out on to the quadrangle

It didn't bother him that people could see him

This was different

Nobody knew him

He was a complete stranger to whomever saw him

He could stumble and fall without fault

He could skip if he wanted to

For several steps he did, laughing,

down all the way to the school exit.

He had never been so free.

The bus stopped as usual.

He stepped off quickly and scurried into the post office with his hat down and head averted from the street crowd. Soon he would be home to answer to his father's usual questions, and his mother's sniffs of disapproval.

Reviews

[Beccy]

Freedom, as elusive as a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Blessed is the poet and the mind that soars beyond the mundane.

Mind you, it's always back to earth when the bills become due. -:)


Beccy.

[Corset]

yes, I know this feeling, freedom to be you is much like the freedom to write whatever and about whomever and however you want without judgmental comments or innuendos, is very exhilarating. I did that a couple times here to just be free of "things" and write what I want, it's a lovely feeling until you are found out and mom and dad just don't understand that sort of thing.