A Hill, Named Hill.

I stand atop a hill,

Aptly named Hill.

It tells long forgotten stories,

It whispers them to the wind.

I ask the wind if it has seen,

The beauty of my love,

Her graceful smile and her face,

Oh what I wouldn’t give to see them again.

This hill, aptly named hill,

Speaks to my heart.

In those long forgotten stories,

It reminds me of my past.

It laughs at the foolishness of words,

Because its stories don’t have any.

It uses silence to convey its message,

And my ears cant help but hear the deafening sound,

Of silence, in the air and in my mind.

This hill, aptly named hill,

Tells me why I have been foolish,

As to let her go, and love someone else,

When I could have had the treasures of her heart,

Its long forgotten stories are emotionless in themselves,

But to me, they are the most beautiful,

The most moving stories I have ever heard,

Its when the wind quiets down, and the silence goes away,

Its when I realize the hill, aptly named hill,

Did not tell me any long forgotten stories,

It just drew the ones in my mind out.

This hill, wrongly named hill, is not a hill at all,

Not made of earth and sand and stone,

Its my mind, made of regrets,

Regrets and mistakes and hidden wishes.