Holding Back

I do not dream of working naked,
of sporting prowess or having super powers.
Nor do I wake from falling downwards,
from ghoulish monsters or daemonic hatred.
I wish for but one most simple pleasure;
that I might take a walk upon the sands,
bolstered by the cooling onshore breeze,
my dogs running circles against the sea.
My want is but to be as free as them,
to cross my path and speed right on,
instead of tripping in its rutted depth,
cut by dampened chain and morbid anchor.

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