Wandering

Tiny feet stepping on the forest floor,
treading uncertain waters, testing branches,
not one solid, not one complete.
wandering, always wandering,
wandering into the distance, into the sky,
playing with the clouds and the fireflies.

Miniature hands reaching towards the vines,
trying to grasp just one stable one,
but they break, one by one.
tumbling off the trees,
snapping onto the moss floor below.
everything thought safe is not so.

Eyes look towards the future,
seeing the two paths winding away from each other,
currently intertwined and confused.
the little self hides in the shadows,
hiding from the decision ahead.
 
but she cannot hide,
cannot disappear,
the paths are always going to be there,
whether to go right or to go wrong,
it's a decision she'll have to make,
for she can not wander forever.