04/03/10

R.I.P Randhir Shrivastava

Sitting at the window sill, staring into the inky blackness outside and my ears straining to pick up the faint sounds of the movement on the road outside, my mind takes me back to 2006...my heart heavy with longing, sadness and frustration at my helplessness on certain fronts, I vow today to make you proud of me.

Going back to my favourite poem of all times to calm my troubled heart....

Stopping by the 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

- Robert Frost

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