The Only Road (NaPoWriMo 2)

And I thought yesterday’s prompt was out of my comfort zone! To write a strictly metered poem (that rhymes!) in the style of Robert Frost was a wrestling match for my free form, wandering, rhythmic self. Once again, thanks for getting me out of my comfort zone with today’s prompt, #NaPoWriMo. Technically, I should have written about a path I didn’t travel, but I am convinced that I could have gone down no other road than the one I did and, though it has been challenging, it has been a wonderful, wild journey.

The Only Road

Far more than two clear cut paths diverged
Plus temptation to bumble through brush
Perhaps I should have paused at first merge
Heeded the scolding of wild thrush
Lingered long as each new fork converged;
But who can reach back, warn yesterday
That some paths wind 'round crumbling graveyards
Some swipe thorny claws to snatch away
Many simply end, stone walls as guards
Pretty few gift meadows of sunray
I shouldn't contradict my elder
Still, I uphold the well worn wrong way
As we journey, path's differences blur
With open hands, I've gleaned from the fray
Gifts were given each twist, stone and burr
I've darted down road after wrong road
Stumbled then backtracked then wandered free
Skipped merry towards outcomes forebode
Slept in a branch of ancient oak tree
At last learned to weigh the path I strode

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