An ode to Robert Frost

One morning, I happened on a divided path in a yellow wood
Then realized it was like the one where Robert Frost once stood
I stopped and stared afar, wondering which path I should take
My view, was obscured, by the growth of the underbrush’s rake
 I looked for wear, on each trail, for trodden grass and brush
For others had surely passed this way, in their homeward rush
Each path beckoned me, to wonder to its far off emerald end
Sunlight made each a postcard, at its far off enchanted bend
Leaves in vibrant colors offered a velvet-covered path
To make my journey easy without the use of a staff
Each path offered a different course that my life would reflect
This held me fast, uncertain about which path I should select
Later, I would tell others, about the beauty of each tantalizing trail
Without knowing where they lead or from where the path did hail
That day I took neither path I retreated back to my home
Where paths are safe, more sure and a lot better known
I sometimes venture down to that wooded path divide
And wonder if Mr. Frost is close or standing at my side
If I had chosen one, might it have led me to a friend?
Or would my life have been the same in the very end
I only know that Mr. Frost held my hand on that sunny day, And whispered “I too did not know which was the better way”
Choices make life exciting, not knowing what’s up ahead
We dream of what might have been, without it being said
One wrong turn on our path in life, is not the way we measure
It’s what we see and do along the way that makes our life a treasure.