Letters

Hill

I sit on the hill, Our hill, as swirls of colors
And beautifully sculpted buildings lay off
To the side.
Pools of oceans and rivers lie below and
Above is the gentle caress of the wind, blowing
A gentle calming breeze.
The soft sound of music follows behind and yet
I sit and ponder, heart full of wonder, if You are sitting on your own hill and admiring the view.

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If you aren't, you should be. Your legs will tire,
Your lungs will scream for rest but
You must reach the top.
You have to.
At the top lies your reward,
Lies all the treasures that money cannot buy,
That artists dream of painting.

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I love this hill.
I love it because I feel on top of the world,
Untouchable,
Uplifted by the wind and sea,
At peace because I am so close yet
So far from the clear whisps of the blue sea above.
But
As I sit on this hill, on a bench, the gentle
Caresses of the wind can't replicate the feeling
Of arms, of voices.

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But that's okay. Till that day, I shall wait till the
Fateful day that I show my hill and it's Marvelous splendor.
I shall explore further and document all of my
Travels to beautiful worlds with just a glance of
Art,
Culture,
Music,
Magic.

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I sit on the hill, Our hill, I sit and ponder, heart
Full of wonder if
You are sitting on your hill and admiring the
View.

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