The Fence

White picket

Smooth curves that throw themselves into one another

Not the ideal place for me to sit

But I hoist myself atop their dividing lines

The fence stands tall

High enough from the shrubbery below 

to break a bone should I tumble off, 

but low enough for a safe landing if I emerge confidently.

I wonder to myself

on which side of the fence will I stand taller?

I don’t know how I came to this position, 

balancing on the thin verge of a fence, 

but I now have two choices:

I can fall backward into my yard

I can retire back to my room in comfort;

Blankets the same and details already studied.

the safer option.

Or I can leap off in the opposite direction: forwards. 

I can divert away from familiar places

and discover something new.

It could be rewarding or distressing, 

but nevertheless foriegn. 

I realize as I sit on this edge

That I am drenched in indecision. 

So for now, I’m on the fence.