amy way photography

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
 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 undergrowth; 

Then took the other, as just as fair
 And having perhaps the better claim,
 Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
 Though as for that, the passing there
 Had worn them really about the same, 

 And both that morning equally lay
 In leaves no step had trodden black
 Oh, I kept the first for another day!
 Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
 I doubted if I should ever come back. 

 I shall be telling this with a sigh
 Somewhere ages and ages hence:
 two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
 I took the one less traveled by,
 And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost