Choices

To each one’s fortunes it is given

A little of hell, a little of heaven

That their choice they might decide

And choose as their wills might

But it’s a choice shrouded in mists

Bad roads to mountains, good roads to cliffs

What seems good ends up a waste

And the good has a bitter taste

The hours pass and life runs down

While the choices run round and round

Yet time is the only way to see

What each choice was really meant to be

Perhaps that’s why the young aren’t wise

With too much time to blind their eyes

While the aged though their years are spent

Each choice’s true nature comprehend

So now young I to my fortune am given

A little of hell, a little of heaven

But how to choose what’s bitter but right?

I guess I’ll borrowed aged wisdom’s sight

May K.