She Still Chooses

She chose those.
Those clothes, those shows, those beaux,
Heaven knows she didn't do without beaux.

Now, nearer the close than the beginning,
She remembers losing more than winning,
Never looked at it as sinning,

Knew there'd always be more innings,

And she always left them grinning.

And it looks as if it's true
Though she really never knew
If one could really live as two
And be happy as they do,
Together all their whole lives through.

What is it that she hadn't done

While laughing fast toward the sun?

She often thought she'd found the one

But soon as it had begun,
She called it done.
Could not maintain two as one.

She could not let an other in

She'd never lose, and never win.

So left alone in silent din

Too tired to begin again

She fixes photos with a pin

She takes her memories one by one

And watches them fade in the sun

Too tired, and too wise to run

And satisfied with all the fun

She wonders if it's all now done.

A tap upon the rusted gate!

Might there be such thing as fate?

Perhaps it isn't all too late

Perhaps there is someone who'll wait

While her internal storm abates

The storm now blows with much less fury

And she's in much less a hurry

And older vision, clearly blurry

Sees its truth, is judge and jury

Knows there's no answer to life's query.

Why not once more!  What's there to lose?

Maybe together, but not fused

Not so close that we might bruise.

Not for answers, just for clues

Always more for us to choose.

I like the way the rhythm bumps the reader a couple of times in this one.