Hand-Scrawled Lines

I want to breathe 

Both with looming skyscrapers, 

And mountains stretched high, 

To feel the sun 

Smiling on my skin, 

And cold water 

Enveloping me in a splash, 

To climb trees 

Not just to have a new perspective, 

But to be one, 

To sit tangled 

In soil’s masterpiece 

And simply be a rough draft, 

To write my own final copy 

With hand-scrawled lines 

Broken with poetry, 

Smeared with tears 

Dripped from joy 

And sadness, 

Filled with budding wildflowers 

Of hope and inspiration, 

To bind the pages 

With thread woven 

With every smile I’ve beamed 

With the sun, 

With the breaths I’ve taken 

With the mountains 

And the city, 

With everywhere I have seen, 

And every perspective 

I’ve been.