This poem is deceptively simple but actually quite complicated. The narrator pauses between two roads, and they are about the same. The poem reads, "the passing there/Had worn them really about the same," meaning that the roads are both worn down to the same degree and have had the same amount of traffic. He chooses one of the roads, not really knowing what it will hold, and he anticipates in the future that it will be hard to explain why he did so. The poem reads, "I shall be telling this with a sigh." While taking the less traveled road has "made all the difference," it was hard for him to predict in the moment which road would be better. The narrator seems to live with constant regret, no matter which choice he makes. The meaning of the poem is that it's difficult to make these types of choices, to know which path to take in advance, and one might never know if one was right or feel secure in these types of choices.