Choices

Bum is a rolling stone , road to road
A confused bum with eyes popping.

Bum does not know if it was its path
Or the romanticized road , not taken.

Whatever road is that was not taken
Good it was not, in the deep woods.

There bum is lost in array of choices
New choices, with fresh confusions.

(Thinking of Robert Frost’s poem The Road Not Taken)

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