I roam freely as long and as far my limbs let me.
I see the abundant green canopies sway in soothing gait.
I am free and no one could judge otherwise.

No one hurt me.
I am not a prisoner.
I have all one can ask! Freedom.

I saw a Pa and a Son,
On a spring evening coming to a close.
A slushy mat of rolling grass,
barely drained of the morning pours.

A ball is pitched.
A hit! Run and get it!
A miss! Run again and Repeat.

Say I, "You want a catcher?"
Caught a few right in the Mitt,
And just one on the nape of my Wrist,
Pride moved the dusk along.

Move a door ajar,
Hold a cup,
Turn a wheel,
It is a tortuous pain a few dusks forward.

It is not sudden,
It is not unbearable,
Yet on every movement,
Guttorally "ouuuuuuu...",
If not me, perhaps for the World to bear,
it is so painful!

I have no misgivings,
that I am anything like a tiger,
but wailed like one on each step,
whose shoulder dislocated a few days prior

For the first time in a long time I am alive,
Complacency to my wrist is a distant memory!

With each blinding pain, I wondered,
Whose heart is wrenched?
Whose eyes swelled an Ocean?

I stare!
I am not a prisoner!
I am free!

A horse, a cat,
a dog, a human,
Aren't we all, when naked of norms,
Alone?

Perhaps it is early morning,
and the dusk of Evolution is far!