barefoot moss

at twelve years old,
the yearning’s strong
for freedom’s close
equivalent

like carefree mornings,
barefoot moss,
and rushes
unambivalent

on bicycles
with arms held wide,
and lakeside morns
exploring

the slipping feel
of barefoot moss,
a young heart’s full

outpouring

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

One thought on “barefoot moss”

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