I halt at walls,
turn short at corners,
adapting my steps
to the space my eyes can see,
and the limits my arms can reach.

Narrow windows, sensibly placed,
allow me to see the world outside,
and I have grown accustomed
to not wanting to be out when I am in.

I walk obediently, following
the plan of unknown designers,
conforming to the shape of this home.
It is a safe and sheltering place.

Yet some days, I dream,
and want to burst these walls
to inhabit a space
not contained in a stranger's mind.