Domino Effect

Well i am here again. Yesterday my english teacher sent me a poem written by her about what age she believes to be best. Anyways the poem was amazing and it had a domino effect. I just had to write one myself. Take a look-

Choices
Sick musings of a person dear
Have struck a chord very near
Poetry and feet, rhythm and beat
All sounds so pretty and neat.

Somewhere a spot has been touched
The joy of writing, very much loved
The power of the pen, the voice inside
The struggling writer, the poet beside.

A path has already been chosen
A decision of the heart and head taken
An affair with accounts to last a lifetime
In these unchartered seas to provide a lifeline.

Yet the fling with writing shall always remain
Unexpectedly, yet insistently calling my name
To feed the fire just this one time
Put your heart on paper, its fine.

But the holiday will soon be over
And in the game of life it will be my turn
How hard I hit, the score on the board
Will decide how smooth is the next road.

Every debit has a credit they say
The scales of balance shall equally weigh
So thou shall do justice to your own self
Make occupation and vocation grow with equal help

The time has come, the lines been laid
The choices made and Gods called upon for aid
To all those who care wish me well
For there are demons yet to quell

There are some who worry
Who pray I shall not be sorry
How do I tell them all
That I shall never fall

Yet I cannot say such a thing
For even to my ears it has a hollow ring
Sometimes i doubt and pick up my feet
To take a step in defeat

Then something stiffens my spine
Of courage and resolution I hope its a sign
I know the way is hard and long
The destination way far beyond

One step at a time is my plan for now
Hand in hand the accountant and author and how!
Who says my final accounts shall not in poetry drip
Which the I.T officer in wonder shall flip.

My audit report beautifully worded
Tied in rhyme and artistically corded
Hamlet and Direct Tax Reckoner learnt by heart
And all this just to start.

I am sure many have passed
To whom this question was asked
Two roads lay spread out to choose
And for each the other we shall forever loose.

But one had to be picked and only one
Yet the treacherous heart wonders about the other one
What might have been i shall never know
For here it is that I choose to plant my roots and grow.