When Frost's Roads Beckon
Two roads diverge in a modern wood
One paved for war -
The other for peace
But which is the path most taken we ask
The grassy , or well-trodden one?
Blue skies beckon at the end of each
in between black and twisted trees,
Hidden perils, treacherous creatures
fill these fine cathedral woods
What difference to the traveler does it make?
Endless armies still embark
Women still weep with endless grief
So many promises- impossible to keep
So many wars before we sleep
Whose world this is, I think I know!
He watches it blow-up below.
Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2015