It was one of those late evenings,
When you are tired of the concrete around,
The hollowness of towering skylines.
When you sign out of electronic availability and go to the woods,
The same woods, which throughout childhood had remained lovely, dark and deep.
I wondered whether Dear Robert had thought it through,
Or felt, just as I do, about the road not taken.
Whether taking the one less travelled by was important because it was courageous?
Or because it made him successful?
Or because he just enjoyed being different?
Of all the picture he painted, I wondered if he had succeeded in being successful,
Yet lonely, because of the road he chose.
For only a few took it.
Then what of love? Of relationships? Of family?
The warmth of a conversation with a friend,
The comfort of a hug after a rough day.
Is it so important to take the road less travelled by?
Is it truly success, when all you can do is buy things you don't need, to impress people you don't like?
Are the promises really worth being kept, if there are none to care?
Why go miles before you can sleep, if a dance in the rain can bring you back to life?
May be the road less travelled by, was grassy and wanted wear for a reason.
May be the difference it made, wasn't enough for most people.
May be it isn't so important to be so different,
Fly high above all, achieve every season,
May be it is important to just see the woods,
Lovely, dark and deep,
Tread the road often travelled by,
Without the promises,
The need to succeed.