A road not taken...
My friend D* emailed me one of Robert Frost's poems yesterday. It's a simple poem with a simple message. I kept going back to it and re-reading it hoping to know, for certain, the message within. Du'oh! A straight interpretation of the poem is easy enough. But if you're a sucker for alternative endings, the possibilities are endless (which by the
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by Bob Dylan
My love she speaks like silence,
Without ideals or violence,
She doesn't have to say she's faithful,
Yet she's true, like ice, like fire.
People carry roses,
Make promises by the hours,
My love she laughs like the flowers,
Valentines can't buy her.
In the dime stores and bus stations,
People talk of situations,
Read books, repeat quotations,
Draw conclusions on the wall.
Some speak of the future,
My love she speaks softly,
She knows there's no success like failure
And that failure's no success at all.
The cloak and dagger dangles,
Madams light the candles.
In ceremonies of the horsemen,
Even the pawn must hold a grudge.
Statues made of match sticks,
Crumble into one another,
My love winks, she does not bother,
She knows too much to argue or to judge.
The bridge at midnight trembles,
The country doctor rambles,
Bankers' nieces seek perfection,
Expecting all the gifts that wise men bring.
The wind howls like a hammer,
The night blows cold and rainy,
My love she's like some raven
At my window with a broken wing.
Follow your heart, though sometimes you stumble.
You know you can never be wrong when in time,
you reap the rewards.
____
*care to friend me? you won't be disappointed. :)
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At my window with a broken wing.
two things: you quoted Bob Dylan and you used to attend 7am Math classes. i don't think i'd be disappointed. welcome. :)
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