Stopping By A Woods (Sincerest Apology To Robert Frost) Poem by L MILTON HANKINS

I think I know whose woods these are
He lives across from me, not very far.
He will not care I've stopped here to pee
Snow is drifting to the fenders of my car.

My old mobile idles sluggish in the cold
Wondering, I guess, why I'd be so bold
To stop without a gas pump near
Between icy road and ditch I've rolled.

The other sound I hear is distant chain
An eighteen-wheeler chugging down the lane
The woods are growing darker so fast
I haven't much time, but no longer in pain.

The road becomes more treacherous by the minute
I have a crucial, pending vote in the Senate
I have no choice I am pledged to cast it,
I have no choice I am pledged to cast it.