I started to walk on tender grass,
Where my every fall was handled fast,
Dancing with fireflies made absolute sense,
As I was in the clear outside the fence.
I strolled until the path diverged,
Where before me possibilities emerged,
And I had to do what I’d never done,
As now making choices weighted a ton.
I reached at a point running tough,
Where I saw a mirror brittle enough,
Whose reflection had me crumble inside,
As what I had made was just paper pile.
What I could recall was now abundant,
With glimpses of light and shades of burnt,
But I opted to watch the fireflies,
As time was a servant of my eyes.