Rolling hills of wonder
Skies of red and white
Like steps of candyfloss
Beneath buried is the dark green moss
Board walk of broken old
Timber so worn not safe to take this pathway home
Hovering over hills of dark climbing lust
Wire torn fences brake the night of morning dawn
Sun goes in to itself
Jets of steam fill roaring skies of world in heat
Smoky velvet is pushed from the old rust
Pine is pressed back
Out of the fire walks a man with an old sack
He has over come what no one else could
Barely breathing as the air is thin
He still manages to smile and grin
Held up by his might
He is a man of strength courage and fight
As blue glassy eyes pierced by cold black air
Shinning like stars in the dark stormy path made clear
Holding his stick and life on his back
Nature is his friend that particular night
With bated breath and inhaling of fresh air
He knows he could have ended up dead somewhere
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