Twenty Lines of Poetic Nonsense

There once were, when I

Was walking once, a time I eyed

A path of old as never did seem to chance

Upon such a weary traveler,

And yet seemed to split into two distinguishable ways from thence.

As such an astute traveler as I was

I did but look out onto the passage of the two ways

And did see that there was one which seemed to be oft traveled

By travelers such as me

And one which never had such a traveler graced.

I, being one traveler, could not go down both,
And so, being torn to choose which to trod forth,

I had a proper quandary in choosing

The path best suited for me,

Both the one oft traveled and the one unseen.

So now with wisdom of years

I tell you with tears upon open ears

That I chose the one less traveled by,

And oh boy, it made all the difference, for

Here am I, with no one more than poison oak to chide.