Following the shore line he walked,

Looking for something new.

He stopped and looked down;

Footprints.

His footprints, he'd been here before.

It finally sunk in, going on and on in circles.

For days, if not months.

Time had moved so quickly it seemed slow.

He couldn't even remember how it all began,

But then all that mattered was the present and the future.

"The present," he wondered aloud.

"How many others are on their own circle?

Going round and round,

Without even realizing it?

They have trapped themselves in a tedious cycle.

But who has the key?

I guess that's a silly question.

People need to 'wake-up' from their circle.

Stop repeating.

Do something with their lives out of the ordinary

Nothing is going to change until we all ask for our key;

Our key to freedom,

Our key to adventure.

I want my key, my key to a better life."

He spoke this last line softly.

Only his grand-daughter of 13 years heard.

And with that the old man breathed his last.

Her moist face covered in her hands she replied,

"Me too, Grandpa, me too. No circles for me."

And with that she left with a kiss to his brow.

The hospice was quiet on this afternoon.

She didn't meet a soul.

She wouldn't have even noticed if she did as she walked in a daze.

"Never, ever will I be in a circle."

And then she left.

Determination evident in her every move.