Race me to the hilltop
I'd love it more than anything
any little thing
any little thing
any little thing
There there'd be buried treasure
we'll find some, if you like
I'd want nothing more.
We'd spin around
looking 'round:
trees, birds, bees and whatnot;
the sun and shadows like clockwork;
any little thing we find.
When we talk, let's not ruin
the hilltop peace.
When we talk, let's talk in short words
give each other
one-letter poems
or one-poem letters.
Then we'd talk of nothing more
and only the grass underneath
moves, waves, dances and speaks
formless, shadowless,
weightless under the black canvass of stars.
Then, again we'd run.