The Silent Hills.

The Silent Hills.

There is rain in the violet mist,
Failing along the mountain and blue hills,
As city, light and voices meet,
White clouds perch on my window.

There is drought in the lighting dust,
falling along the mountain and silent hills,
As the city lies speechless, nail down,
By volcano and scourge in the field.

The valley of twilight,
Shine like red coral,
The grassy fields and hills of stone,
Are my home.

by Unknown Author