(with apologies to Robert Frost)
Two roads diverged in Cantubo bridge,
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 concrete edge;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it looked pretty and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
With deep canals and mud, in disarray.
Oh, I marked the other for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I should be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in Cantubo bridge, and I,
I took the one most traveled by,
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