Slave of the poem

When I was a little girl

I went to the theater to recite a poem.

While I was waiting my turn, anxious,

I kept rehearsing not to forget the words,

When through the window I saw some boys playing on the street.

They were so free, so happy, with no poem to recite.

I felt envy of the boys

I realized that I was slave of the poem.

What a shame!

But I swore I would be free like them.

I would play on the street more than anyone else.

However, by the time I recited

I didn’t make any mistakes!

And the clappings? Well, I loved them!

So I realized I was slave of the poem

And of the clappings too!

I asked myself: in life are we a slave

To everything we have?

But one thing is true:

Better than being a slave is to have freedom

To play or to recite.

This story is published in a Few Words, Medium’s publication that only accepts stories under 500 words.

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