Mountain

the majesty of mountains,
those giant pillars of rock,
they always continue to stand,
whatever the time on the clock,
And as we stand beneath,
the steep tree covered slopes,
it seems just to dwarf,
all our dreams,
and all our hopes,
the mist rolls over mountains,
and yet they do not change,
and although we change appearance,
they must see us as strange,
the mountains are like gods,
looking down on us,
and in them we can see a friend,
tey are something we can trust,
Although we take for granted,
these giant hmps of rock,
our hopes and dreams of love and life,
eventually do flock,
to the mountains we can always see,
perched on the horizon,
and populated by everything,
from rabbits through to bizon,
so you see the way they look down,
and wonder at what they see,
humans are the size of ants,
rushing busily beneath their feet,
for mountains are aristocrats,
above us in every way,
if we keep our place then the mountains,
will reveal their secrets one day.