Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Poem by Ian Riley

Freedom Has a Stench

Ten of them move in unison,
Free to dance about.
They are happy, carefree.
Working together is an afterthought,
A sad rarity today;
But they don’t know they are rare,
So they remain content.
At least until their master coops them up again
Like they are children,
For their own “protection.”
And when they are once again set free
A stale odor begins to permeate…

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