Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
By Visage (with apologies to Robert Frost)
Whose woods these are I think I know
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me swooping here
To let my soul gaze on the snow
My small gargoyles must think it queer
To stop without a hero near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year
They give their stony wings 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 many souls to reap
And miles to go before I sleep
And miles to go before I sleep
(Headcanon that when Visage is off-duty he swoops around his snowy home and writes poetry.)
Hey guys I made this thing for this cool competition but submissions only let you do one picture at a time so I’ll upload it to here properly in a minute.
Sylvia Morris 