The Stairs Not Taken 

John Clare Stokes 

I'd be lost, without my Robert Frost,

roaming parking garages, long standing

looking down long rows as far as I could

missing the place of the rhyming.

Then took I the collected volume,

opening it, finding perhaps a clue

as to a path toward an elevator

though as for stairwells, a route of

lesser time.

And both that evening equally lay

two well-trod paths for me

clutching the Frost tightly, knowing

yet one path leads away, doubting

ever if I'd choose the right way.

And so telling this with a sigh,

perchance steps upon steps to climb,

two paths diverged in a parking garage,

and I ....I took the one nearest the elevator,

and that has made me all the less...

breathless.