Baritone Stirring

I've been soul searching (yet again) in the hopes that my decisions do not become regrets.

I wonder: if a woman is so keen to escape the monotony of her days, should she be somewhere else?

Your baritone
soothes the storm's shrill shrieks,
smooths the wrinkled sheets
of ocean waves
playing tug of war games
for no other reason
but their own amusement.

Your baritone
stirs sleeping birds,
their wings tucked 
beneath self-imposed chains--

air creatures 
who have forgotten
the weightlessness 
of flight.

And if they could escape,
would it be weakness of will
to forsake expectations
and commitment--

would it be a mistake
to be discontented,
​
to forsake the solid stability of land
for nature's promised thrill?