chosen roads

Recently I thought of the poem
by Robert Frost I'd read,
of two roads diverging in a wood
and on which he chose to tread.
In a quand'ry he had pondered,
a question as if he could,
travel both roads;
but at the junction where he stood.
Being but one traveler as am I,
chose his road an' went his way,
on the road less traveled by,
saving the road well worn
for another day.
Without a regret nor a second glance,
on his road he stayed making all the difference.
Between robert frost an' me,
i passed the road less traveled by.
Choosing the road well worn
which he pondered but would never see
and as I stand at the mid-point of my life,
torn between diverging roads once again.
I think i'll try the road less traveled by,
having seen where the difference lies,
between the roads we've chosen.