Me and Daddy in 1969
|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.
|Thank you all for the kind comments, e-hugs and words of comfort. I didn't know my heart could break into so many pieces. The pain is almost unbearable. Daddy would have been 70 this May. I keep thinking maybe if I go ahead and dial his number he will answer and it will all be over...and we will talk about what an awful time we had to go through together. The poem above was one he used to quote to me. It was read at his funeral service.|