He makes a move

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He left this morning to a place that is ignored

He wanted to leave because he was sad and bored.

He took a book, a pen, but no water nor bread

Away from his family and friends to a lifeless village instead.

From all the city worries, he flees

To sit under orange trees.

The sunshine dries his tears

and the distance calms his fears.

He likes the road,

But not when it leads home.

Only back there, mama is making diner

He stays below the trees that give him shelter,

food and satisfaction.

Still unwilling to move,

High grass grows around his legs.

Body and bark become one

Drawing rotting curves

He disappears into the trunk.

 

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