Were it easy for me to say this
It would not be a poem
It's just been so long since I have had
A place which to call home

As I sit upon the mountain
My view stretches woody miles
…To think that I have never once
Deemed them worth the while!

Yet I have spent so many hours
Walking circles on the streets
Unaware of mystery
Ten minutes' walk from reach

How easy, to be ridden
As a horse, by others' time-
A slave in disillusion;
'Tis the nature of this crime

…I'm sure one day I will recall
As I lay in my death throes
The view from on this mountain
And the woods I've never known…