The Stairs Not Taken
John Clare Stokes
I'd be lost, without my Robert Frost,
roaming parking garages, long standing
looking down long rows as far as I could
missing the place of the rhyming.
Then took I the collected volume,
opening it, finding perhaps a clue
as to a path toward an elevator
though as for stairwells, a route of
lesser time.
And both that evening equally lay
two well-trod paths for me
clutching the Frost tightly, knowing
yet one path leads away, doubting
ever if I'd choose the right way.
And so telling this with a sigh,
perchance steps upon steps to climb,
two paths diverged in a parking garage,
and I ....I took the one nearest the elevator,
and that has made me all the less...
breathless.
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