Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening:

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

BY ROBERT 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.

Imagining Cruella de Vil

The Faithful

College Town

The Grapes of…Whatever

Conversion

Trainspotting

You Are Not What You Seem

Bird On a Wire

Wonderland

She saw the spirit.
They injected her, they held her down.
She recalled the glossy red shoes of her childhood.
Magic shoes that would carry her wherever she wanted to go.