free range

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By Mike O’Connell

we were
free range children
wandering
(not too far)
from momnhome
only as far as our
bubblegum bikes
could take us
until dark settled
over our eyes
and we dreamed of
riding to the moonnback
snoring safely softly
in warm beds
eagerly awaiting dawn
always getting closer
to the farthest journey
rounding the moon
free range
riding ghosts of
faceless bubblegum bikes
clacking until the sky fails
and we become
trapped strapped
to timeless dreams
where free range means
we will be riding dust
for whats left of eternity

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