Is It Poetry
The Road Not Taken Back
Deep within the woods upon this lonely path.
Long and hard, I walked to reach it's end.
And when I came upon it, where it forked, I stopped.
Alone with I and light was fading much to fast.
Ups and downs the others, where and can't be found.
And youth my eyes they guided next, my every step.
The sun no longer shines so warm upon my back.
Darkness cools each tree and progress holds it's breath.
Some thing says I should move on and I stand still and wait
until I it's night, it's then, I look around, my fork has disappeared.
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