Aug 22 Lyda M
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.
Lyda M Aug 9
Music is a drug
I have overdosed in
Until I grew sick
Of melodies
Lyda M Jul 23
Music is all but
Perfect; tis a faux concept
In an abstract world
Lyda M Jul 23
Three stand before thee
The silver trophies gleam bright
Ambitions are bared
Lyda M Jul 23
The golden hall sings
Of an art that decorates
The spaces of time
Lyda M Jul 22
Stories sing of ways
That shed light on

Tall tales spake
Of things
With green envy

Thy name wilt one speak
Before the moon sets
Upon one's kingdom

And bite one's thumb
Shall one joust in word or sound
Even the ocean could not contain enough salt to pass around
Lyda M Jul 22
And doubts have dashed
And murmurs gone
And frowns have turned downside up

To smiles
And heart
And laughter
And newfound friends
And applause
And gratitude

As miles of
Hard work

Have rewarded the sweetest
Not of gold but of

a musical gift
Written after we won a music competition. Some people were salty about losing. I'm just glad all my hard work didn't go to waste.
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