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.