The other side of the hill

The grass,
I keep reminding myself,
Is not greener on the other side.

And so I water my own hill.
Until a near flood.
But, I catch myself glancing backwards,

Over my shoulder at the
What if's.
all the while knowing full well,

If I dared venture
past the gate of acceptable behavior,
I'd find myself

on the other side of the hill.
Looking back
at my watered flowers in full bloom.