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.
Mi querida madre:
The first time I heard this poem of Robert Frost was from you in 1988. Knowing you, Ed, Eddy, Brian and Patrick was an extraordinary picture of love and understanding.
Rosemary, you lost the companion you had in many roads you took together. But many other roads are coming and you are not alone, we are here just by you.
Love,
Carlitos Gontero
