A Lonely Figure Stands On a Hill

A lonely figure stands on a hill Soft rolling plains, the air is still. Her silhouette against the sky As she looks down, and wonders why. For she lives inland, no water seen Twixt hill, nor dale, nor in-between. She imagines, makes the scene below A mighty ocean, where waves do flow. She cannot change where she must stay Nor can her ‘wish’, e’re have its way But to see a view, within her eye Can magically take wing, and fly! You see, we choose what we will see When from our own truth, we would flee. Changing hills to waves… fantasy But for one moment… reality!