shoe leather thinned
by ancient cobbles
nerves hectored
by strained tongues
We nested in the quiet
of a sitting room
hidden from avenues
and myriad bistros
calling our names
The destination arrived
at by way of hard work
lucky dart throws
age benchmarks
and the winds' blow
We pondered the questions
who are we
what are we to do
the philosophy of life
crystallized in decisions
Or merely one choice
not many
When coming upon
the fork in the road
recall this:
il n'ya pas de cuillère
there is no spoon.
_____
Copyright 2014 Femme Malheureuse
@ApparatusMag #NaPoMo 2014 Prompt 24
Graphic: Bobby Acree via Flickr
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