A child had run away
from the tagger in the game of tag.
She had hidden behind the tall bush
where she remained hushed
while deciding whether to flee in the opposite way.
She had run away from uncouth behavior,
the rush and needless conformity to her savior.
Everyone excessively conformed to each other–
no radical creativity
everyone under pressure to follow one after another.
She could form a single line of everyone, only if
they had time and space.
Then came her savior: a new town in a new land
How wonderful was her savior.
There seemed no despair.
Sky was so blue
the color was so true
even with yellowish hue.
They even have names for them.
To name a few.
Unfiltered sunlight filled the peripheral vision
Wearing sunglasses was a right decision.
Yet she wasn’t sorry to bid farewell.
Turns out the people weren’t so swell.
The people were bigots,
Blurting out retorts,
acting with vanity,
bullying without rationalization.
Nothing to hold onto, except the beautiful weather.
Now it is cloudy here; it isn’t gay. It is full of dismay.
One layer of fog on the ground. People wearing black and gray.
Old buildings, roads, and crowds complemented the local color.
Constant reminders of American Revolution.
Yet there’s more than meets the eyes.
At least the people are swell.
Diversifying the experiences, forever expanding
Becoming more well-rounded or spherical.
They are all possible because there are role models. Everywhere she goes.
Her mind undergoes its own Revolution from zero to one individual.
Everything to hold onto, except the drab weather.
It’s amusing how her planning to escape from the taggers becomes a pursuit for shaping her swagger. She has run away towards individual revolution.