I stand on the hill, The road stretches before me Winding, Curving Around boulders and mountains of thick stiff grass. I look to the East and see A multitude of brilliant colours. Rising reds and burning oranges Close to the darkened horizon That fade into delicate pink and gold Of the sunset. To the west I see the last of the weak sun Shimmering through thickened layers Of the thinning ozone. I look to the road ahead. Scattered paths branch away like branches of a dying tree. I peer forward through the dimming light, Searching for the right detour, The right track On which to place my weary feet. My eyesight is failing Growing fatigued with my demands. I slump to the hard ground and rest Wait for the time when I can see clearer Wait for the time when I can appreciate What is around and not what is to come. The dark clothes me Embraces me in its soft velvet. A shiver slides down my spine. I look up and see the brilliant diamonds in the sky I smile and take a deep breath of fresh cool air And notice a vague tempting smell of freshly baked bread My nose rises of its own accord and points the way to look. A nearby fluttering light Beckons Entices. I stand and draw closer, Already off the road. A lace curtain hides no secrets And I glimpse a piece of heaven. A small figure kneeling by a soft large armchair Stirring a bowl of steaming liquid on the floor. A laden table at the armrest With slices of fresh bread and a mug at its side. She glances up and a hushed voice enters my head.