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we sit and count
the moments
the drops of honey
in porcelain cups
the teeth we broke
playing hopscotch

the jagged edges
dull now
and the flowers
drowning in tea

your pocket watch
measuring heartbeats
and truths
- a wild metronome
ticking away
the last breaths
of the sonata
in the sun

keeping up
with busy steps
of those
left in the schoolyard
skipping the cracks
and the chalk lines
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 marked 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.

— The End —