monday

we sit at the edge, dangling our toes,
a fine pair
of hope and fear.

both looking to what the future holds,
for one small question
forgotten to avoid an answer,
until the date reaches
a week past no return

and I flip through the pages
to remember what held the balance--
hope and fear.
to see which one jumps, or
pushes the other.

--
I shouldn't write poetry right before going to bed. It gets very loopy. This basically deals with how if I'm looking for an event to come (getting a rejection/acceptance letter, grades being posted), there's this balance of hope and fear, of my optimism saying I'll triumph, and my fear saying not to be so sure. Kinda like that Red Dwarf episode.