Crossroads

Standing at the crossroads,
Like so many before.
The "road less travelled",
Is unknown yet comfortable and welcoming.
The other, is by a bush blocked.
I know what lies beyond:
Passions, memories, happiness and love.
But the gorse that has grown back since last winter,
Is prickly and impenetrable.
I strive to pass through it,
Knowing that my feet will never feel that loving path again.

The gorse will not die back next year,
It has grown now too strong.
With a heavy heart I am persuaded to leave the road behind.
Whether 'tis wrong or right,
I'll never know until I get there.