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Trip Down Memory Lane
We’ve come to an intersection, two
Separate pathways, two choices, two roads.
The same spot where our lives initially diverged
And finally we’ve returned to our origin, in
A different age and fashion. Now a
Second choice confronts us again, the yellow
One filled with hope, we pray as we knock on wood.
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The last word of each line in my poem corresponds to the line, “Two roads diverged in a yellow wood," by Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken."