A Sunny Bit of Frost

Out on my own

Traveling round,

No familiar faces

No familiar sounds.

I’m rambling there

And now over here,

No idea where I am

This is most austere.

The people around me

Are a wretched bunch,

That one in the leather

I think he stole my lunch.

My stomach growls

My feet are dead,

I wish I had somewhere

To lay my poor head.

But reading a poem

Makes me feel grand,

What traveling is for

I now understand.

I may be homesick

I may feel real lost,

But here at the road-fork

I’ll be Robert Frost,

Soon at my home

I’ll contentedly sigh,

For I, being brave,

Took the road less traveled by.