Streets never appealed as freedom to me,
Streets form artwork.
With the ocean of sky,
Thrust between buildings so high.
The windows of acrossed
Re-reflecting the lights,
Making wonderfull coloured drapers.
As I stand,
The walls shrink as I look ahead.
With graffiti and posters,
From grey to red.
Timely, was it, that I drowned
the fact, that I held the canvas, I just had painted.
Gazing adoringly at my first attempt,
I realised I knew how to imagine.
The colors on the street transitioned,
And my imagination motioned.
The shades in the windows changed,
With a few new cars, now laned.
I had learnt to imagine.
I had learnt the feel of freedom.
I had learnt poetry.