• Wind blows through her hair,
    carrying the thoughts of yesterday out the window.
    She sits looking out at a garden where the flowers bend,
    swaying in the breeze in a free manner.
    Slowly a tear drop falls to the wood of the window,
    as rain falls from leave to leave in the garden.
    Softly crying to herself she tries to imagine a bird,
    she tries to imagine herself being able to fly away.
    Freedom isn't free,
    it only comes to those who need i
    t the most.