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.

No weapon found,
Not an evidence around,
It is a ****** surely,
Done out of unknown fury.
The case becomes history,
But still remains a mystery.
The statue of limitations is in a few days,
And thus it will become a cold case.

She resembles a Mosaic,
The pieces define her.
Collected from different walks,
Each shaped her,
For the better or worse.
The experience and knowledge
Make her what she is today.
A true piece of art!

i mean i had always known
when a man was
just about to kiss me

and he was different
that kiss
caught me off
balance

and he seemed surprised
but
i thought he was magic

because
how could he do that

and i thought about it
for almost a year
and

one day
i realized
that he never even
thought

there was no mind to read
no early warning radar
he just kissed

and i wished
it was magic

i am not
my favorite poet
not even third or
fourth in line for the title

the hawk circles
laughing
at such a notion

and i bury my toes
in the dirt
waiting for the mockingbird
to chime in

this is where it was always leading
this parting of the ways, this fleeing
from the sore shots of life's arrows
it was always coming, this pulling
asunder in the glow of a last twilight
so fare thee well my friend and foe
you who slew my hopes and dreams
and made sure there were no streams
to cool my burning soul and quench
this horrible thirst that still persists
i hunger for the warmth you exuded
and thirst for that temperate streak in you,
a virtue now so rare and dear in this world
most are well-schooled in shameless artifice
so here now i sit in this elevated oblivion
watching you melt into the unkind distance
fare thee well, my spring and my nemesis
i shall in time learn to want nothing gone