The Forked Road

By: Gothic Lust

The path was lined with trees

Dusted lightly with powdery snow.

Each pine a different shade

Of the automn color scheme,

And in the distance a fork in the road

Haloed by the rising sun.

The air was nippy, freezing my nose.

Each word spoken swallowed by the cold,

But yet the sight was a rarety of it’s own.

Who could have ever imagined a slice of heaven,

So small and peaceful as this small road.

As I walked down the worn dirth path,

My pack over my shoulder,

My toes curling in their shoes,

Hair dancing in the northern winter winds,

I neared the fork in the road

Haloed by the rising sun.

One path promised me an adventure far greater than imaginable,

The other towards a warm drink and a seat by a roaring fire.

Which to choose? Thus the problem of the forked road.

Continue on this small stretch of heaven,

Or leave to morality and sin?

With a turn on my heel I continued down the path towards morality and sin.

One day I can return to that small piece of heaven and freedom,

But for now, my feet are in need of rest and my lips something warm to sip.

When harsh winter has died and made way for refreshing spring,

I will continue down that path. Until then, I’ll wait, thawing my nose,

Awaiting the great adventure that small slice of heaven promised me.

This was an idea I got while taking a nice (note sarcasm) and very very long car trip up to Tennesse. Being a resident of Florida you don’t see many different seasons, or for that matter snow or any trees like the forest pines I saw up there. Mostly we have palm trees and bushes, nothing too spectacular. Anyway I hope you liked the poem.

Please review ….