A note to Robert Frost about my path

You wrote poems that I hold dear
That I think about while I cook
Then after dinner I come sit here
And think about the path you took

The path I followed is not as clear
I think it’s time I found a brook
Then sit and read while you're near
As I read aloud from your book

Mr. Frost, would you be my guide
As I work to find my writing stride
This path I’m on is cold and bleak
Please read my poems, your help I seek

I am traveling the writer's unmarked path
Striving to avoid some critic’s wrath
My poems seek wisdom from your eternal proof
That those of us who rhyme will find God’s truth.

You see, I found a divided path in a wood
That was like the one where you once stood

I stopped and stared afar,
wondering which path I should take
My view was totally obscured,
by the underbrush’s rake

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

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 you're close
or maybe somewhere by my side

Choices do make life exciting,
not knowing what’s up ahead
We dream of what might have been,
without it ever being said

One wrong turn, on our path in life,
is not the way you measure
It’s what we see along the way
that makes our life a treasure.