Linger

I stand at the crossroad,
where the road bends and the light soften
Each path cast in shifting shadows.
This forest, familiar yet restless
is a place I've wandered for years
its roots deep, its branches reaching
its canopy sometimes sheltering, sometimes stifling.

The tree at the center holds its secret
its rings marked with time
its leaves steady against the wind
But its fruits lacks the sweetness I crave
the wild, tender bloom I thought I'd find.

To stay is to tend this forest,
to nurture the familiar ground beneath my feet,
even if its shades feel heavier than its should.
To leave is to step into the unknown-
a meadow, perhaps, or a storm-
where the air feels lighter,
but the footing uncertain.

For now, I linger
tracing the contours of what has been,
while the horizon whispers softly
waiting for my answer