This poem is a parody of Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”. It was inspired (a couple years ago, I think) by a conversation with some friends on the G. K. Chesterton quote, “Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese.”
Whose cheese this is I think I know.
He is away on business though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his cheese with eyes aglow.
My little dog must think it queer
To stop without a hydrant near
Between the clothes and frozen cakes
The slowest evening of the year.
He gives his floppy ears a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the beeps
My cell phone and my pager make.
The cheese is lovely, sharp, and cheap.
But I have promises to keep,
And lots to do before I sleep,
And lots to do before I sleep.