The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost

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.


***

I used to recite poetry out loud when Eli and I were going for walks together. He surprised me by reciting them with me sometimes. He's listening after all. :) 

Whenever I recite a poem back to myself, this is the first one that pops into my head. Maybe it's the imagery? I picture it so clearly. Sometimes I think of Hidden Valley.

Maybe it's the dissonance. "The passing there had worn them really about the same... I took the one less traveled..." 

And so it's the story we tell ourselves in hindsight. "I shall be telling this with a sigh." I made the right choice after all.