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Choices

Rating: 4.8

Life is full of crossroads,
the hard lefts or rights,
and little pathways
of curves, this way or that.

Each way has its own set
of bumps and potholes
and the occasional hairpin turn.

I've wondered at times

how my life might have differed
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Anonymous 07 April 2019

Someone explain this poem

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Hello Anonymous. If you will tell me the parts you don't understand, I will be happy to explain them to you. Thanks.

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Simon Whild 22 November 2005

This poem brings back T.S. Eliot's rose garden section in Burnt Norton. The door through which we did not tread...

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Stephanie van Oudtshoorn 19 October 2005

Someone I know says he will only regret the choices he didn't make...this made me think of him.

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Allan James Saywell 17 February 2005

It is a bit of a trap, thinking about what we should have done, a choice is a choice, we should just live with it be happy with it, fate will take care of it's own Warm regards AJS

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Michael Shepherd 17 February 2005

Remember that the Road Less Trod may lead you, unbeknownst, to...a U-turn *_*

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Lare Austin 17 February 2005

Well said, C.J....well said...well thought and composed...well done... Lare

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Rusty Daily 17 February 2005

CJ Excellent thought to start any day, to pause and reflect and perhaps be thankful for all the good choices one makes. Fortunately, as I get older, my speed of life has slowed and I'm not running off the road so much. Be well my friend. Rusty

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Lenchen Elf 17 February 2005

A warm and welcome thought, quietly expressed, thank you

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Herbert Nehrlich1 17 February 2005

Well, now where were you when they dumped me off the back of a Mexican Pickup Truck, driving off on their screeching Dunlops, grinning their tacopimpled grins and showing their burritowives how to have a good time. I was just dusting myself off when you drove by: Sedately, brown-eyed, handsome, regal and in a blue dress, with a pink bow. If you had slowed down just a tad, I would have been presentable, we could have taken a turn together, got acquainted at the next hairpin.... C'est la vie. And as you caqn see, we could have lived in the South of France. Good poem. Actually, better. H

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