Peter, I Can See Your House From Up Here

It is often that I think of these mountains—

No time more so than when I walk amongst them.

 

I’ll find that my thoughts are wandering

And see my feet have followed with them.

I stand and stare at my home below.

Someone else lives there now, so I’m told.

 

Never my wish to leave my sacred places—

Never did I dream that strangers would haunt them.

 

I told you that I would be back soon.

You sighed and smiled and just rolled your eyes.

Won’t it be sad, you said, looking away

When all this is gone, gone for the good?

 

I thought you were talking about you and me—

I didn’t realise you meant everything.