Teen Poetry Collections

Fresh Air

 by a young man in detention


Freedom tastes like a big bowl of wild berry sherbet.
Freedom is the sound of a mockingbird chirping
in the tree swaying in the breeze.
Touching freedom is hugging your mom
without people watching.
Freedom smells like roses blossoming
in the spring sunlight at a lighthouse
on the beach, waves crashing,
birds singing without a care in the world.

Freedom tastes like a ripe mango on warm summer day,
refreshing and juicy with the sun beating down.
Freedom is the sound of the phone waking you
in the morning, mom telling you to get up
and go to school.
Touching freedom is like getting your paycheck
after a long week of work.
Freedom smells like wood burning, a campfire
in the middle of the forest, away from civilization
where people can be themselves without being judged.

When I look at freedom I see myself
breathing out the stale air of Detention
and breathing in the fresh air of the rainy city.