Choices

     By Christopher Bowman

The witching hour has past
... Standing at a crossroads in autumns cool embrace,
time hung still and heavy with choices to be made,
neither road less traveled nor slopping gently downward gave indication of destinies design,
the two roads simply sat there equally impressed with mystery and portent yet defined by choices presented,
pondered well the outcome each attraction offered,
shimmering a twilight choice then made,
and in it's choosing a future would define,
for in autumns dawning the twilights heralding resigns,
there would be no returning nor regret to so revive,
thus the choice was laid before the gypsy poets heart,
to craft within a requiem,
a final solace so relieved ...