"Stopping by the Woods on the Way to Orlando"

Whose woods are these

I think I know

His house is in

Orlando though.

My little truck

Must think it queer,

To stop without

A gas pump near.

I cut the motor

And open the door

And view with my camera

The woods before.

The only sound

The silent love

Of light wind

In the trees above.

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.

My apologies to Robert Frost. This is why I am a painter and not a poet. But these woods are much the same as Robert Frost's woods. There just isn't any snow and there is no horse anymore. But I have tried to capture that same idea of woods being lovely, dark and deep. I hope I succeeded.

Thanks for looking.