One day these hills will be all we have left. The thickened pines and needle laden tracks That rise to summits formed of smooth and serrated granite; One day I will raise my eyes to these peaks And see in them the only Faces of familiarity I can find. Life is like that. Everything changes. The ones we love the most leave Empty hollows like abandoned Caverns above the falls, And darkness spreads where light’s erased In the the narrow crevices of time.
One day I will be an old soul, alone in a wicker chair, Looking to the reddened sky behind the peaks; Faces I have loved streaming by And lifting to the wind That shakes the leaves all the way to the spires of The ever-constant hills. They have watched generations rise and fall, And how I love you like a fire Burning in the fragile spaces Between the roughened cliffs That encroach upon us all.