standing proud and tall,
old yet modern,
the wooden beams creak in the wind.
A little boy sat under the sun head,
no longer wanting to stay in bed,
with his eye looking up,
in his hands,
a small cup.
He had snuck out you see?
To wonder at sky above,
not sparing a glance to the town below.
Under the roof he perched,
for a way out he searched.
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Author:
atticus_made (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 4th, 2026 02:23
- Comment from author about the poem: a small part of a collection I am making
- Category: special-occasion
- Views: 11
- In collections: A skull ahead.
Offline)
Comments3
A clear image of a small child that trapped inside searches for an exit. This may be taken as a metaphor for all in search of freedom. Nicely done
Yes! He is a character that will be part of a collection here
This gave me the sense of the boy hoping for peace and looking for freedom, nicely penned
Thank you!
You are very welcome
Well written
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