By Joan A. Roberts
The road less traveled,
The road I dread to tread,
Where hawkers, bikers, and riders
Have no security or reassuring insurance.
The road less traveled, my bane,
I loathe to recall its testimony,
Even within my sane harmony.
The accidental train
Upon the incidental tragic scene.
The captain aboard the flight
That never made it back at night.
The intercity bus shuttle,
The commoners’ hustle.
It is a scary journey;
You never know when.
Fate’s nest is a journey
Of untold anecdotes,
Waddling upon its tail
The tale of languish or anguish.
The road less traveled
Does not always bring us all back
With groceries, shopping bags, or goodies.
The road less traveled is unprecedented,
Keeping its feet in fate’s unwavering arms.
Author’s Note
Let us treat every day as though it were our last. Let us pray daily, strive to be good people, meet good people, and be kind whenever we can. Let us be our brothers’ and sisters’ keepers, regardless of race or color, for life is fleeting and unpredictable.
