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.

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

And now I've officially lost everything and *everyone

I am the sea
Make for me
Rivers in the sand

Flood the world
And come back to me
I am the sea
And the tide is me
And the sun swims softly in

I can reach
And you'll be there
And I'll pull the world in

I am the sea
Make for me
Rivers in  the sand

I donte wante to rush nothing
I donte wante man to rush to slip his slippery tounge in Ma mouth.
I wante man to rush wit ring on ma finger first
And be a dedicated boye
A husban.
Not a man who donte takee kare of his chika

A year ago I innocently adore you
that cute guy at work is who you were
now I am falling deeply in love with you
the one I'd exchange vow with is who you are

TO ALL POETS

Each of us is different
yet we are (bottom-line)
the same
true to self
that's what really  matters
words are the joys and tears of our heart
none can stop them--never, ever