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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Contest Entry · #1796334
Some thoughts on the Road Less Traveled, and what might lie at it's end. Writer's Cramp.
No One Takes It Once

So there I was in a yellow wood,
A couple of years, or a month ago,
Hearing from a strange but happy man
About things I had not seen.

Roads where leaves still snapped underfoot,
With the occasional glimpse of deer.
Gentle, flowing willow strands-
Under a calm and guiding moon.

I chose then to take that road.
Then, many did the same.
Choices led to consequence;
To more choices, once again.

At every fork, our numbers fell.
In every river, lovers drowned.
Some I watched, walked too soon,
And only rose to come back down.

Companions left, or slipped away-
With each and every passing turn.
Until, trudging just habitually,
I reached a fork alone.

Two roads once more before me-
I turned around and smiled.
Basking, ignorant,
Instead of moving on.

A week ago, or this morning,
I took that road again;
Heard familiar crunching,
Thought I would finally see the end.

Though when I reached the clearing,
There was just another wood.
More paths stood open, beckoning,
I took the one I felt I should.

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I...
Will tell you, if I ever reach the end.
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