Hillside

Standing on a hill at night,
I peer toward the sky,
the stars are out and shining bright,
giving off their light.

Standing on that hill of mine,
there's not a soul for miles,
not the merest sign of one:
I'm standing quite alone.

Though the stars are pretty,
the moon is quite a sight,
hanging in that sky,
that ever lonely night.

So here I stand all alone,
peering through the night,
but no longer is it at the moon I gaze,
but for a hand, to hold tight.

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Don't hesitate to vote, and tell me what you think.

© Daniel J 2005