The breeze is making the curtains tease at the door.
A rush, a flutter of hair.
Cold stone underfoot.
Stepping toward the edge as anxiety excites.
Hands on the the wall, Gray wall, as Gray as life.
The birds are happy, but sound imprisoned.
The world out on the balcony is very different to the bedroom suite.
A world that makes the tears drip.
One by one, they fall, over the edge.
And you leap after them.
To find escape.
