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.

That poem is by Robert Frost. It's my favorite poem. Probably because of the memories attached to it.

I first learned about Robert Frost in my junior year of high school. My English teacher that year was amazing and taught me that thinking differently was a good thing that should be embraced. He encouraged my art and always REMINDED me to take off my hat. He never told me to do that. He had a joy for life that I haven't seen in anyone else ever again. He was truly the only reason I get a little sad when ever I think about my time in Idaho. I miss him and wish I could have spent more time with him. But on that same token, I'm IMMENSELY grateful for the time I did get to spend with him.

I think it's time that I memorized this poem again.