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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. 20
there once was a man named bob, who oneday lost his job,he became a hobo, got eaten by a lobo, and that was the end of bob
cool stuf by me and robet frost
A Poem is like fire It never Stops and is In everything. It thrives without Water or wind all it needs is a Spark and some wood. You Have a fire for your home, camp Site, heater and camper all with the Beauty of a silgle spark you have Light and sound at your will
