role

Sitting on the bench she looks toward the sky and inhales all the autumnal fragrance inside. She closes her eyes thinking about thoughts feeling a shooting head ache. She knows that she needs to think stuff through and clear up her mind but this inner struggle to clarify decisions and decide on clarity has become very strenuous lately. She has always been the strong sole who could manage any halter and this seemingly weakness is a newly defined stress by itself. For the first time may be, she feels overwhelmed by the burden of choices on her shoulders. She feels like running away from all this but she does not move a limb as if she is frozen on the bench.
The golden leaves are falling from the tree opposite the bench and covering the still green grass. She needs to define and choose her role: a tree that naturally sheds and regrows, the green grass well maintained year round, or a golden leaf fallen to perish.