Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could.
To where it bent in the undergrowth,

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I —
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference.

The Road Not Taken – Robert Frost

I was a sailor, but I wasn’t free
I traveled the oceans and saw the world
from inside my steel cage.

I was a slave, not a civilian
I did what I was told
and inside I raged.

Not a man, but a number
tricked by their slick words
I volunteered myself to bondage.

I look outside the window
Of the cafe and see
Leaves racing one another
Down the parking lot.

The cold, wintery winds
Whip them up into a tempest
Swirling chaos on the asphalt
Slick with water and petrochemicals.

I feel loneliness and regret,
Seems to foreshadow the future,
That I quickly try to repress
With happier thoughts.