
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, | |
And sorry I could not travel both | |
And be one traveler, 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 |
|
Unlike Robert Frost in his poem, I took neither. I turned and retraced my steps.
My feet stayed dry.
3 comments:
Oh my. This is beautiful, though, isn't it? Is it really a fork in the road or really a river? Amazing.
Canadians are strange
This is wonderful Michael, how did you make blogger so wonderful?
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