One lonely hilltop,
Apart from all the rest,
Just on the horizon,
As if in protest,
It sits through the rain,
Always standing tall,
Taller than the others,
It can beat them all,
The clouds throw dark shadows,
Upon the falling rock,
A once beautiful view,
Mist does tend to block.
If you are just passing,
You might see someone there,
A ghost from long ago,
But some cease to care,
Many sorrowful days
That tall hill has seen
Many deaths and battles,
There have often been.
Sometimes in the mist,
You can't see that hill,
Just a lonely horizon,
That it fails to fill.
