I can still hear my Mother reading it to me, and explaining. We had no Youtube you see, to watch and to feel snow. I have to only imagine….Imagine and visualize a lot of things in my mind, spend hours imagining, how they all might look like, about all the things alien to my life in India, my Mother was reading to us, the stores, the poetry of distant lands so very different from what i was surrounded by at that time in my little town of Gadwal.
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.