I visited Woodstock,Vt. once, so I derived this poem fom what I remember about it, and the people. 12-17-04
It all started in a small town known as Woodstock, Vt. It was the first time that I'd been there, and I noticed that during this special time of the year, in which was Christmas time,and the pure white snow was just beautiful. I walked through the nocturnal town observing the Christmas lights in the windows of the stores, the nostalgic designs of the down town buildings shown underneath the antique street lights, and the smiles of the people as they were bundled up in their warm coats to match the winter season. There were seasons greetings posted all over town, while white puffs of smoke on occasion would dazzle the cool misty air from a warm river rock style chimeny from across the street. There were people nearby drinking their egg nog, with cheer within their voices and obviously bright lit upon their faces. The warm hearts of their family members, and close friends cuddled near them as they told stories around the fire place. A beautiul child clutched to her mothers side as they both gazed at a blonde hair lady doll dressed in white lace in a store window nearby. I would look up into the coolness of the night air just below the street light, and could see a frosty mist slowly gliding towards the snow covered ground. As I passed by one store I just happen to notice the reflection of myself, and my smiling face. I knew that I was a very happy man, for then I noticed there beside me the image of a beautiul woman also reflected within the frost glazed window. The woman that is very much near to me in all ways, and in Love with me, and her name is Abigail Ann.
LOvely story Leslie, especially since I owned The Merry Christmas Shop in the North Georgia Mountains. That went on for sixteen years
and we played Christmas music evry day.
Enjoyed my visit with you and please keep up the good writing.
Everett Beal Rph author of Fatal ADDICTION. 2/24/06
Christmas - only days away; plastic snowmen and glowing reindeer adorn the lawns of neighborhoods all across America. All is calm, all is bright, and yet there is something tragically wrong about this Christmas night.
With swift passage thr
For the past two years (2006-2008) The Bridge of Silver Wings has earned a name for itself both as a series of poems published in different e-zines and as a book first published in 2007.
What makes this 2009 edition a special one is th
