The Thinking Sapling

A small light,
far too bright, now shines through.
Far too late, yet too soon,
a day begins anew

A dark night,
there’s no light in this room.
There’s only tears and gloom,
the same old pain I knew.

It’s unfair;
I’m too scared of that door.
Let’s tempt fate no more.
I could get by in here.

If I’m there,
would you care anymore?
My feet are tired and sore:
a burden now, I fear.

Too real is that golden beam.
Surreal is that growing dream.

To leave would risk losing it all.
To stay would risk that deadly fall.

A small light,
in the night, still shines through
Still alone in this room.
Oh, now, what do I do?