the hillside gold

now see her on the hillside gold
and in the autumn pure;
now see her as the sun goes down,
a world in miniature

now see her on the last warm days
before the world turned cold,
when love was still a maybe thing,
and hillsides made
of gold

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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