This cell is as cold as Michigan winters,
hard as the highways I did travel.
For months I have been captured,
assigned to this blank cubicle.
My mind alone is allowed to escape,
To explore the world beyond these bars.
Strangers read my mail, order my day,
set my routines, cook my meals.
The only decision left to me is
whether to open my eyes,
or to feign sleep when they bring my tray.
The bars are on my hospital bed;
my ward is in a retirement home.
The wardens are my nurses;
my sentence is life.
In death I will once again
be free to wander and explore.
I embrace death,
that I might have life once more.