Whispering lightly at midnight
as to plan our silent escape
into the shimmering moonlight.
We’re pushing the door agape
just an inch.
To the creak, we wince.
Freedom is seconds away.

Rushing past the street lamps,
racing into the dark.
Our feet are leaving little stamps;
our own personal mark
on the ground below.
The wind, it does not blow.
We’re hurrying farther astray.

Dashing behind a corner,
hiding behind a bush,
we’re taking no one’s order.
Our defiance is giving us a push
beyond all belief.
In night, we find relief.
The stars encourage our treason.

Taking in the sweet summer air,
struggling for a gasp.
We’re creating memories to share,
with liberty just out of grasp
we reach; we can almost enclasp.
We’re taking this journey for a reason.

Resting on a porch swing
on the house of a friend.
Lightly, we start to sing
while hoping the note will not end.
The first rays of the sun peak;
we glance, but do not speak.
Quickly we race toward home.

Plowing toward the house,
speeding through the trees.
We’re as quiet as a mouse,
as quiet as we can be
as we trudge closer to our abode
our minds, they are hollowed.
The sun’s light is forming a crimson dome.

Creeping stealthily inside,
shushing each other through.
Footsteps; there’s nowhere to hide.
We know just what to do.
“Good morning,” we hear.
Punishment, we do not fear.
“How’d you sleep my dear?”

Whispering lightly at six A.M.
reminiscing our silent freedom.


This will certify that the above work is completely orginal. - Morgan Woerner