Up the hill

Up the hill I go

Flower fragrance flow,

Butterflies wandering around 

Like a merry go round

I Don’t know if its My reality or something imaginary

As I’m Looking at an art that will never 


The birds that are flying by the sky are up so high,

Clouds as soft as cotton are passing by.

On the soft grass I lay looking at the sky

And thinking how this scenery will never go by.


A student who has a hobby of writing poems and sometimes stories also.