November compelled us to visit the hills
Where ignorant rock and lofty pine
Were witness to our disregard
For strangeness, temptation and time.
But memories are sticky things.
Will any mountain ever let
Me dream again? Can I now
Feel rain without regret?
Eric writes “because the stories in his head insist on their telling, and the voices there clamor to be heard.”
What a beautiful view
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is beautiful!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks so much, guys. 🙂
LikeLike