The Freewheelers

A freewheeler sits at the bottom of the stairs
Her boots flung next to her feet
An expression of freedom is worn on her lips
As she looks at the satchel she keeps

Her life and a suitcase is all she needs
Her head and a good pair of shoes
To walk through the world on a dusty worn path
That life wouldn’t suit me and you

She remains in world that is locked with a key
And opens to only a few
Free from words unsaid and thoughts unfed
Yet her boots’ soles are fixed with glue

There is, however, a heavy price to pay
The loneliest place is your head
She wanted a world of freedom and wonder
But there was no-one to share her bed

A freewheeler lies beneath the stars
But there’s a strange tune that plays in her heart
One chains been severed, but another binds her wrist
As the silence is tearing her apart