She sees the world through a small hole,
Her eyes fixed on a static view,
Her spirit craves a brighter goal,
But she's stuck, what can she do?
The keyhole frames a lonely sight,
Of people walking down the street,
They laugh and chat, a merry sight,
She's hidden, silent, incomplete.
She yearns to walk amongst the crowd,
To feel the sun upon her face,
But locked behind that tiny shroud,
She's trapped, alone, in her own space.
The irony of her situation,
Is that she holds the key in hand,
But fear holds back her liberation,
And so she stays behind, unmanned.
Oh, how she longs to break free,
To join the world in all its hue,
But for now, she'll have to be,
Content to watch life from the keyhole's view.
©jamielong
J