Things we cannot do

I open my window, leaning

on the handrail. 

Outside the city is sleeping,

past midnight. 

A soft breeze is blowing,

with a promise of spring;

a time that comes knowing

that we will still be in. 

I stare outside wishing,

I could be there

down the streets, running,

by the river, dancing,

in a loud room, kissing

strangers I have just met, 

taking them home just to forget

their names as soon as they are gone. 

I wish I could be out

when no one is in the streets,

I wish I could be out,

feel the coldness of the stone under my feet. 

I wish I could be out,

the rain soaking me through,

I wish I could be out,

and do the things we cannot do.