by Sparks In Shadow
Through the glass, she sees an earthen footpath wending to the right behind golden mums, fuchsia roses, and trees rising higher to the edge of her view. She presses her palms against the hard coolness separating her life from the scenery, dreaming of lives beyond her reach.
To the left, sidewalk, lawn then busy artery, three lanes worth in both directions, reminding her of trips downtown, to an airport once, and flight.
Wanting either side, anything elsewhere, she removes her hands and massages a fist to keep it from cracking secret gardens and roads away. Today’s dream burrows farther down, and waits.
The prompt was, “secret gardens” – from Lisa.