Sitting In a Field atop a Hill

A simple recollection of a simple life

Sitting In a Field atop a Hill

Here I look at a glorious sunset,
Atop a high hill,
Thinking of lost love, and people met,
The moment is full and still,

I sit in the coarse field grass,
In my tattered jeans,
The sun turning dull like brass,
Going through multiple sheens,

It now turns dark,
A twilight dark,
One filled with cosmos and shooting stars,
On this road, there are no cars,

Still I sit,
Minding my own,
In my jeans that do not fit,
The moment, I own.