It feels I’ve gone ten-thousand miles,
I’ve shaken hands, exchanged some smiles;
I grow more tired, very slow,
I long to rest here for a while.
The wind, it blusters driving snow,
the woods are deep and still they grow,
I need to stop and find my base,
or not much further can I go.
The frozen lake reflects my face,
so slippery, it slows my pace
and I made promises to keep.
but have no will to leave this place.
At Wood’s they have a good barkeep,
he pours me lagers, dark and deep,
and no more miles until I sleep,
and no more miles until I sleep.
© Walter J Wojtanik, 2014
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Lee Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.