The Roads We'll Never Walk

I. The Paths Untaken
There's a map I keep folded in the drawer of might-have-beens,
Creased with dreams I never chased and places I've not seen.
Each line drawn in hesitation's ink, each route marked clear,
Leading to the lives I didn't choose, the ones I held so dear.

They branch like veins across the paper's weathered face,
Stories untold, footprints never left, a different time and place.
Some mornings I trace them with my fingertips and wonder
About the other me who walked those ways out yonder.

The coffee shop where I never took that writing job,
The city lights I chose to leave before they made me sob.
The airplane ticket purchased then canceled in the night,
When safety felt more precious than the thrill of flight.

Each crossroad holds a ghost of who I might have been,
Dancing just beyond the veil of what I chose to win.
They wear my face but different smiles, different scars,
Living lives I'll never know beneath alternate stars.

II. The Shadow Lives
There's one who never left the coastal town,
Who wears sea salt in her hair like a crown.
She knows the rhythm of the tides by heart,
And never felt the need to make a new start.

Another walks the streets of Paris alone,
Speaking French like it's the only tongue she's known.
Painting sunsets on Montmartre's ancient stone,
Building art from dreams I wouldn't own.

A third stands firm in courtrooms far away,
Fighting battles I declined to slay.
Her briefcase heavy with the weight of law,
While I chose softer wars to draw.

They gather sometimes in my restless dreams,
These other selves with different schemes.
We share a coffee, trade our tales,
Of victories won and points where each path fails.

III. The Echoes
The children I never bore call out sometimes,
Their laughter echoing through phantom nursery rhymes.
I see their faces in the morning light,
Reflected in windows, then gone from sight.

The lover I never kissed still waits
At that corner café beyond time's gates.
His coffee growing cold as autumn rain
Falls on a moment that won't come again.

The house I never bought still stands,
Its garden wild with forget-me-nots and plans.
The key I never turned still might
Open doors to different kinds of light.
These ghosts don't haunt so much as hum,
A chord of possibilities unstrung.

They're not regrets, just whispers soft,
Of different stars I might have caught.

IV. The Intersections
Some nights I dream of crossing paths
With all these lives I didn't grasp.
We meet at cosmic intersection points,
Where timelines blur and fates anoint.

The doctor self meets teacher me,
The wanderer greets the one who stayed to be.
We share no judgment, hold no grief,
Just wonder at each path's belief.
For every door that clicked to close,

Another opened, I suppose.
Each "no" birthed different kinds of "yes,"
Each loss led to unknown success.
We're all just travelers in the end,
Following roads that twist and bend.
No path is wrong, no choice complete,
Just different ways our souls compete.

V. The Present Path
The road I walk is lined with choices made,
Some blooming bright, some starting to fade.
But it's mine, each step earned and true,
Each vista earned, each morning new.

I've learned to love the path I chose,
Though wonder still occasionally flows
About those roads that stretch away,
Into the mist of yesterday.

They're not lost paths, just different views,
Different ways to sing the blues.
Different mountains, different seas,
Different ways to bend the knees.

VI. The Wisdom of Ways
Perhaps the secret's not in knowing
Which path was right, which way was going
To lead to perfect happiness or peace,
But understanding that all roads release
Their own peculiar kind of grace,
Their own rewards at their own pace.

The paths we walk and those we don't
Are equally alive with hope.
For every road leads somewhere true,
Each choice reveals a different view.
And in the end, perhaps we'll find
All paths converge in space and time.

VII. The Eternal Wanderer
We are all collectors of unwalked ways,
Dreamers of unspent days.
Keepers of keys to unopened doors,
Sailors who never left certain shores.
But in these roads we'll never walk,
In all these dreams we'll never talk,
There lies a kind of freedom sweet:
The endless ways our lives could meet.

For in the spaces between choice and change,
Where possibility's winds arrange
The leaves of lives we might have led,
We find the truths that keep us fed.

VIII. The Return
Sometimes I take that map back out,
Smooth its creases, trace each route.
But now I see with clearer eyes
The beauty in these unlived lives.

They're not just paths I didn't take,
But proof that every choice we make
Creates a universe of light,
A thousand ways to get it right.

For every road we'll never walk
Teaches us to better talk
About the ones we chose to tread,
The stories that we chose to spread.

IX. The Legacy
So let us bless these phantom trails,
These untold stories, untold tales.
Let's thank them for their silent gift:
The knowledge that each choice can lift
Us toward a different kind of sky,
A different way to learn to fly.
For in these roads we'll never know,
We learn how far we dare to go.

And in the end, perhaps we'll see
That every path, both wild and free,
Both taken and left behind to grow,
Makes up the only truth we know:
That life's not measured by the roads
We didn't take or different codes
We didn't crack, but by the way
We dance with choices day by day.

X. The Horizon
So here's to roads we'll never walk,
To lives we'll never get to talk,
To dreams we left by riverside,
To paths we watched but stayed inside.
They're not our failures or our fears,
Just different ways to count the years.
Different dances, different songs,
Different places to belong.

And in the twilight, when we rest
From paths that put us to the test,
Perhaps we'll smile to understand
That every road was freely planned.
That every choice led somewhere true,
That every path taught something new,
That roads we walked and didn't take
All helped our hearts to stay awake.

So fold the map and put it back,
Among the dreams we chose to pack.
For every road, both near and far,
Has led us exactly where we are.
And that's the beauty of it all:
The roads we'll never walk still call,
Not to taunt or make us weep,
But to show us all we get to keep.

For in the end, we come to know
That every path helps us to grow,
And roads we'll never walk still teach
Us how to value what we reach.

They stand as testament and guide
To all the courage stored inside,
When choosing one path over others
Made us sisters, made us brothers
To all who walk and all who dream,
To all who choose and all who seem
To dance between the might-have-beens
And all the paths that might have been.

So bless the roads we'll never know,
The paths we'll never get to show,
For they remind us, day by day,
That every choice lights up the way.

https://allpoetry.com/the-road-not-taken