Day Four...

When Mothers Dream


I want to run away from home.
Go elsewhere. Be in absentia.
Abdicate my throne of responsibility.
Take the road not taken.
Walk on the wild side.
I am so sick of being dependable.

I want to wake up with no agenda but my own.
sans all apron strings, in a glorious bubble of anonymity.
It's not the paparazzi I'm hiding from.

I want to wake up at the moment of my choosing.
And all sounds mine, wanted.
And all tastes gratifying, craved.
And all sights quenching, dreamt.

I want to wake up.