Friday, November 23, 2007

For Heather

Driving By Food On A Long Afternoon

Where the food is I think I know.
We must get off the freeway though;
We will not find it driving here
Yet one more exit we must go.
My little tummy must think it queer
Not to stop with a restaurant near
Zooming on past exit ninety-three
We've missed all the food I fear.
Perhaps this hunger will kill me.
Plenty of restaurants we could see
Now the only sight's the street
My tummy grumbles from my seat.
Still I have consumed no meat,
And miles to go before I eat,
And miles to go before I eat.

Here's Robert Frost's original. And I will take suggestions, there are a couple of awkward lines.

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

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.

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