The Place That'Ll Be Your Grave Poem by Kimani wa Mumbi

Whose grave this is I think I know.
His house was near the village mall;
He wouldn't have seen me stopping here
To watch his grave piling up with snow.

My little mind must think it queer
To stop with a grave so near
Between woods and a frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

I give my big head a shake
And wonder if there is a mistake.
That at one time or the other (it's deep)
You'd be looking at the spot that'll be your grave.

The woods aren't lovely, are dark, and deep,
But I think I still have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.