Up the steep steps
as you reach the age old fort,
you breathless behold
the green valley down below
and that magnificent mound of rock
by the name Robinson Hill.

In the sweet silence of birds' chirping,
the winds reek of rifles and gun smoke
and you hear not the rustling leaves
but bullets echoing all over the valley
one more down, another down
as they held the fort till fell breathless
passing into tombs and memorials
you read to pause for a breath
up above the green valley
where the grasses grew over the blood.

we often met twice a day
though we never had the chance
to say ’hi‘
but you keep on coming back
as if we had made a contract

i'm sorry i wish on too many wishes
and that i rely so much on you
oh but i often feel so blue
and i just want to wish on something new

       --D