This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Colby chapter.
As if at once, the hills eloped.
Blind to my eager eyes,
Numbly groping the sublime.
As if with Grace, the land felt barren.
Deserted
And overflowing.
The nettle’s sting to wake
Our toes, as they blissfully bound toward
ground far from tracks.
In a twist of wind, what was hills becomes hill.
Two lives intertwined,
Enlaced with the promise of love.
Can you find where the
Rolling hills cascade and the folding sky falls?
I lost track the day the hills eloped.