My feet will sometimes itch for grass
Beneath my toes as nose is pressed
Against the window pane.
My heart can leap as spaniels cross
The great green plane that stretches out,
Teasing like a naked body,
I want to touch but also scared
That shuffling out in slippered feet
Will bring about a blur of terror.
Better to just rot in prison
Shackled to my crimson couch
Where safety reigns but boredom claws
At tightened nerves I fear may snap.