Paths

We hold the leaf 

In our hand

It is cold and the veins

Have turned orange

Our fingers tremble

But at least the path ahead

Of us is full of lights

We would choose to be high

Up in the canopy

Rather than in the dark of the 

Train tracks

That gave me goose bumps

She whispers

Sometimes it feels like 

We are walking on a tight rope

Higher than 

The Eiffel Tower

When we dream

It is of a distant house

Hidden in the bullrushes 

There is a wooden bridge 

The splinters cut our feet

The silent hunter

The tawny owl 

Flies in the moonlit sky

Hunting out his prey 

Quite magical 

She declares

As magical as the lunar eclipse

And walking on the road to nowhere 

There are so many paths

She says

It is a pity

That you only choose one.