The road not taken, a most insidious thought:
A destiny more prosperous or more deadly?
We walk a path that changes on a whim—
A fork sprouting with each decision,
And only one can be chosen.
The most crushing blow: realizing a permanent past.
To meander the back roads in search of a familiar
Tree, home,
The you that once was—
Found only in the ashes of burnt husks.
A Curious Hermit 
The opening lines remind me of the poem by Robert Frost. Very nicely penned.
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Thank you so much! I definitely drew some inspiration from Frost. Glad you noticed. 🙂
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It was a pleasure reading your poem
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