The Stolen Road

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
The same place where life begins
It is a crossroads
A bridge
A crosswalk

A leap into the unknown

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
But our paths did not
Small trails of smaller rocks
Do you follow?

It will not change now
The road and what its made of
I will not change now

So many lives I have seen
And so many people I have been

“Good poets borrow; great poets steal.” – T.S. Elliot

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