Woods Poem by Gazi Mohammad Arif

Woods - not snowy though,
My weary time could not but bow.
My eyes were clogged like few paged book,
But my heart, in the woods, was in active look.
Closed eyes faced the yellow - diverged roads,
And became baffled, usually, which my eyes should cross.
Taking the road - not taken as Frost did,
My eyes were heading, along Virgin Street.
Virgin? Not at all, my eyes could know -
After tripping among the hidden pits on tip toe.
My eyes failed and fell in the pits,
Where poisonous love regularly too cheats.