Poem: Hiking the Hill


I wish you were here at the top of the hill, where the sunset gleams on boulders and rocks.

This place that we hiked to is far out of the way, there’s not a soul for miles either way.

So, we sweated and breathed in the humid air, yet we kept on walking through heat and sunshine shower.

You fell once as we stepped over circles or rocks and forest debris, you may have twisted your ankle,

But you continued just the same, and we both kept on going though you limped as we strode.

The wood was alive with the smell of pine, and a rabbit just stopped to stare at us hiking.

We were panting and dirty and there was a moment or two, I thought we’d have trouble with a little brown bear.

When we reached the hills summit, we looked down below, the great hill (a mountain) was glowing in sunset.

We camped for a day or two, you hated that the most, rocky hills are not places for sleeping your best.

And stiff and stumbling we came back down the hill, many hundred pictures, and aches and pains later.

The hill is a memory, that I fondly look upon, the time that I spent with you, now that your gone.

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