Form: Gwawdodyn

sometimes I want to run through the trees
in the forest of whispers and breeze
like the times before on to the shore
and to find my ease watching the seas
what if I find I sit for too long
and I am shackled by siren song
my soul would be done this centaur must run
from human places I don’t belong
so I must run fast on my hoofed feet
and burning bridges with my heart’s beat
freedom to find when it’s all behind
on another shore there’ll be a seat