Literature
A contradiction
She dreams of the day
when the destination is her choice
when silence is solace-
and not an invitation to mischief and disaster.
She imagines the day,
when the everyday trials of this life
are born of her own hands
instead of smaller ones stained with play.
Today, she drives with the windows down,
wind in her hair
music piercing the air,
crowding out every thought.
And at the end of the endless day
under the safety of night,
the hush lulls her eyes closed
hands folded in exhaustion
she greets the dark.
And yet,
a certain knowledge is always present.
Of what each endless day represents.
Of where each noise, chaos, and ob