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She Longs To Be Free

She paints a life in soft-spun gold,   A dream where love won’t lose its hold.   She speaks of mornings, hand in hand,   Of simple joys, a life well-planned.   She whispers of a quiet home,   Of love that never needs to roam.   She swears that all she wants is me,   But I can see—she longs to be free.   Her eyes drift past the life she draws,   A longing laced between her pause.   She craves the world beyond our door,   Yet tells herself she wants no more.   No walls can hold a restless heart,   No love can make her torn soul part.   She wants this life—she swears it's true,   But deep inside, she’s passing through.
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Pathways

Beneath the vast and open sky,
I stand where endless pathways lie.
Each road a whisper, soft and near,
Yet none with certainty is clear.

A spark of thought, a fleeting aim,
Yet every choice feels much the same.
To build, to craft, to teach, to lead—
What truly grows from planted seed?

The scale of time, the weight it bears,
Each hour spent, a dream it spares.
Yet dreams of growth, unbound, untamed,
Call for risks not yet proclaimed.

Shall I weave my words, let stories soar?
Or shape the world with something more?
Invest, create, or share my voice,
The heart still ponders—what’s the choice?

For now, I pause, the road still waits,
No rush to tempt uncertain fates.
For every path holds lessons true,
And each step forward will renew.

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