The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And gazed down each with careful oath

To see where each one softly led

Through thickets bright and trees half dead.

The first was draped in autumn’s gold,

Its path well-trod by feet of old.

The leaves were worn, the soil packed tight—

A sign of many hearts’ delight.

I pondered all who'd walked that way,

What joys they found, or went astray.

The second road looked just as fair,

Though grass grew wild in the open air.

No footprints marred its morning dew,

Untouched, serene, a path less true—

Or so I thought, until I found

That both had worn a similar ground.

That morning, chilled by forest shade,

I chose the path less clearly laid.

Its quiet called, its mystery deep,

As if it held a truth to keep.

And stepping in, I felt the thrill

Of choice, of fate, of tested will.

Each bend revealed a secret glen,

A hush of birds, a fox’s den.

The sun broke through with shafts of flame

That danced through leaves without a name.

My thoughts, like leaves, began to drift

And ponder purpose, paths, and rift.

I thought of life, of forks unseen,

Of youthful dreams and might-have-beens.

Of chances missed and taken blind,

Of friends left wandering behind.

And with each step, I wondered still—

Was this my path? Was this my will?

The trees stood watch, like sages old,

Their branches told of stories told.

They whispered winds from other times,

From other roads, from other climbs.

And though the way was long and steep,

It led me far, it led me deep.

I came upon a quiet stream,

That mirrored sky and echoed dream.

And there I rested, thinking slow,

Of all the things I’d yet to know.

The path behind had vanished now,

Obscured by time and weathered bough.

Someday, I’d say with quiet breath

When years have drawn me near to death:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by.

And though I’ll never walk the first,

I don’t regret, nor feel the thirst.

For every step has shaped my soul,

And made the journey rich and whole.

Perhaps the road we choose is less

About the path, and more the quest.

And now I walk with heart and grace,

Each road a mirror, not a race.