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
