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.