the hours, a horizon
 that never seems to end,
 the weight, a type of puzzle
 she cannot comprehend

 the small things are the problem,
 but none are really small --
 the hours, a horizon
 with no real end

 at all

 Sometimes, with choices, both of them seem good:
 Two jobs on offer, each of them the type
 She wanted when she graduated. Now,
 She's slightly frozen, hesitant, unsure.

 Today's the day she needs to make a choice:
 A better job, or better people? She
 Turns each of these two over in her head,
 But gets no answers any way she looks.

 These great momentous things: they come, they go,
 But this one's hers, and plagues her, even so;
 Until she thinks, maybe she'll get some tea,
 And that may bring the magic "certainty" --

  The hours, a horizon, but she knows
  She can't go wrong, no matter how she goes