piper white

of Verona

I like to picture myself walking streets someplace far away.
Far away from people who breathe the same air as me.
Bound in windowless rooms, 
silence reverberating, crickets chirping.
My feet are itchy, for I must go.
Go and sink my toes in the sands of Verona.
Feel the pebbles beneath my blistered feet
because I cannot stop going. 
I pick a Daisy from a street cart
and place it behind my ear. 
I breathe in the air of Verona,
all is clear.