A woman I met in Scotland recently posted a poem on Facebook that moved me, and after a brief exchange she asked what my favorite poem was. I immediately recalled it and replied, “it’s by Robert Frost.  It’s called The Road Not Taken.”

I was about 10 when I first heard it, I vividly recall being in grade school standing in the hall and how the words stuck with me, or rather, on me.  I Googled it to refresh my memory.  The words seem prophetic now, and ever so poignant.  I share it below with you now.

The Road Not Taken

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,

 

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

 

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.  

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