Night fell swiftly as she began to climb
The hill upwards one trudge at a time
And when she reached that grassy peak
Her heart - it stopped, she could not speak
For beneath her lay in all its glory
The city so flawless and often in stories
It was a black canvas as dark as ink
And was so large she seemed to shrink
And across the canvas brilliantly flecked
Were flakes of gold - no special effect
The lights they danced and winked and beckoned
So perfect, so pure for every second
But when she realised she had to leave
She wore her heart upon her sleeve
Her face wistful and longing expressed
For the view from atop the hill's crest.
Written when I was 15 - explains the crappiness :D Just thought i'd share.