The Mountain by Rowving Smith

The mountain just sat there

Every morning sun rose behind it

Casting a long shadow across the vally

Towards the evening

The darkness float down it

Waking up fire flies

And lighting the lamps

At village huts

The rain washed it

And made the shurbs green

Giving the mountain a green dress

With a stony hat

People climbed it

Birds flew over it

Clouds kissed it

Mist in the early morning

And in late evenings

Covered it like a blanket

Througout all this

The mountain just sat there

There were songs about it

There were poems

There were stories

There were pictures

People talked about it

People did love it

But no one never thought

How much, just how much

The mountain thought about them

Or for that matter just how much the mountain loved them...!