The Road Not Taken

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.


-Robert Frost



A Faded Photograph that Came A New

Never really cared for Emily Dickinson.

When I was in elemetary school, there was an American boy that use to come to school in mix-matched socks, while the other children would laugh at him; I thought possibly he was colored blind.


It turned out, that sometimes a mate to a particular sock would get lost after his mother washed his socks, so he wore the socks mix-matched. -HRM Deborah