I wake up, it's noon,
I bounce around my mind to find
that it'd be better if you were here,
but I'm not alone anyway.
Endless options sing me songs
as I dance around an empty house,
seemingly infinite.
I hear Emily Dickinson's call of irony
"Dwell in Possibility"
from a girl who never left her home
Perhaps, I, now, should do it too--
dwell, but never pick a road,
as Robert Frost did.
Maybe I will stay idle
& watch my choices melt away
as I let time run free,
crawl into bed & watch the
sun slide across the blue
& call today "No Paths Were Traveled"