Desperate to find the sight,
I drive,
Sunset to my back,
Winding hurriedly up concrete walled streets.
Up ahead, I know there is something,
And I hope it holds my answer,
The vision I wish to behold.
I reach the lot and park quickly,
There is a scramble to secure the vehicle,
And I spring from the seat.
Up a meandering path I walk,
Hills and trees,
Set in a manicured lawn obstruct the outside world,
Trapping me on its corridor.
A suburban jungle,
With houses stories high stay to the left,
Kept safe by fences from rolling hills of wild grass.
I continue on,
Passing lovers perched on strew benches,
And dreamers gazing longingly ahead,
Until finally,
I reach my destination.
The path unravels into a grassy knoll,
Nestled against a small hill,
Which tosses the voices from the world around.
Up to the top I stroll,
No longer hurried,
And sit on a cement line,
Which divides the artificial from nature.
The sun is already set.
And the view is so wide
That one must continually shift their glance to capture it all,
Like a snake hunting its prey.
I try to catch the last glimpses of color,
The fading spectrum,
And study the sliver of mountains surrounding our horizon.
The view is gone,
Ebbing away from the loss of the sun.
Crickets begin their windswept song,
Children are laughing and crying,
Cars are rolling by on the street below.
I sit here alone,
Happy.
Because although I didn't get to see the sun,
I know exactly where it set.
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