| Two Roads Diverged in a Yellow Wood | A Road in a Yellow Wood |
| By Robert Frost | By Christopher Fox Graham |
| 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. | We parted ways in that yellow wood split at the fork to wander onward I, the grassy one who wanted wear my partner, the one bent below the undergrowth where I could not go the traveler stood between us weighing our claims for his future looking down us both as far as he could as if the first footfalls hence could reveal our destinations Others had stood here on other mornings longingly stretched their dreams down us then trodden black the fallen leaves and none had ever come back to retry the other road the traveler chose a route, and made his way down his road where he wound up, I cannot say I am just the road in a yellow wood the difference was his to make |
I wrote and performed this poem tonight for the Sedona Visual Artists Coalition's "PATHWAYS...A Visual Journey" show in the Tlaquepaque Sala de la Milagro ballroom.
