Imagine, In my confinement, I have never seen the horizon. It is not possible With eyes down trodden. I am all awash with life. I have only my shadow With which to navigate, And I am small. Any light which falls on me Is easily switched off So I will loose my direction. All my books have blank pages, So my hours are spent in white out. From cover to cover, I am covered in Winter all my days. If I were able to touch you Then you would feel my pain. When I speak to you, Like now, you listen for a while. But I am truly out of reach, Out of everyones' reach. I divide my time and grow. I am connected, yet alone. I am sustained, for now. My one fear is interruption. Or a vacuous death, Unconsulted, unheeded, unneeded. The Goal is to achieve full term. Until my time arrives, Like everyone else, I wait my outcome. ©2019 Christopher Thompson All rights reserved.