The Orchard of Choices

In the orchard of choices, where branches extend,
Each apple a decision, a path without end.
Some gleam like the morning, tempting and bright,
While others hang heavy, shrouded in night.

With fingers outstretched, I wander the rows,
Sifting through options, where uncertainty grows.
A crisp red allure, promising sweet taste,
Yet caution whispers, “Don’t rush; don’t waste.”

Beneath the green canopy, shadows entwine,
The weight of each choice, a burden divine.
Do I reach for the fruit that glistens with pride,
Or pause at the ones that humility hide?

Some apples are flawless, their surface a dream,
But inside they’re hollow, or bursting at the seam.
Others, though bruised, hold a wisdom untold,
Lessons wrapped gently in skins worn and old.

With each chosen apple, a path starts to form,
A journey unfolding, both chaotic and warm.
For life is an orchard, vast and unplanned,
Where choices like fruits are plucked from the hand.

So I gather my harvest, both bitter and sweet,
Embracing the journey, no matter the feat.
In the orchard of choices, I learn to believe,
That each fruit has its story, and I am the weave.

In ripened reflection, I stand here today,
Grateful for moments that led me this way.
For every decision has brought me to see,
The beauty in choices, and the power in me.