I always have visions of running up the hill.
Far from others but between us all.
Leaping from a rock that's molten black
and frozen in time at a distant call.
Surrounded by a carpet of bright green moss
with the feel of a mate and the urge to crawl.
A hill whose top exhilarates and sets you below the dew.
Where going back down's a pathway home and love a place to sprawl.