on starting over

there comes a point in time,

where you're faced with Frost's familiar roads.

it seems i blazed through though, with my eyes closed.

unaware of which way i may go,

there wasn't a destination in mind.

and now here i am, trailing back to where those roads diverge.

blissfully unaware, of what it means to start again.

and start again i will.

i will sit at those splitting ends, reading worn roadsides,

to make the decision of decisions.

with the anthologies ive read, what the biographies tell,

youd think this would be an easy choice,

but alas it makes me scream and yell.

those two roads, now defunct, urbanized, and bland.

yellow streetlamps, replace golden leaves, illuminating the fact,

both of which were traveled plentifully.

i scream and yell, im scared and i cry.

just the thought of it, wrings my nerves around my spine.

i could never be right, with each path in sight,

and so to choose my path, i closed my eyes.

because i am excited, for a start over

and to actually live this time.

Reviews

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I am SOOO proud of you! You did a great job, as always, by using The Road Not Taken. I love that poem!

Everett, I am so happy to witnessing your journey through your poems! Keep going!