Late Night Poetry: The Road Not Taken

Why are some nights sleepless and others full of dancing sugarplums?

I can’t say.

If I could, I’d be rich. RICH I tell you, RICH!

So maybe I can’t help you sleep, but I can soothe your wakeful soul with some Late Night Poetry, a recurring feature here at The Skinny (our motto: No TV After 2:00 AM.)

I’ve been standing in the metaphorical woods lately, staring at paths, so this feels apt.

Yes, it’s a classic, you’ve heard about it sooooo many times… I wonder what it will mean to your current self, though, on this starting-to-get-cold night, in the beginning of this busy fall..

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.

 – Robert Frost

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