Dream Life

                                        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 equallu 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: Tow roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

                             I'll write for you a poem that you can read from time to time. A tale of how we could be, in a world where you are mine. We'd travel near and far, just us, walking city blocks together. Our feet could take us anywhere and our hands would still be tethered. The starlight could be blinding as the sunshine fades away. Just tell me what to write and I'll create anything you say. I could write us into forever if you let my mind run wild I'd write us onto the tops of mountains where we'd play just like a child. I'd write us into all the wonders that I've ever dreamt of seeing, but the saddest part of writing is that I can't write you into being.