When will it return?

Upon a high hill,
Sitting lonely in his tower,
A little boy waits for his
Sun’s returning hour

As the autumn diminished to frosty chill,
As winter’s gown clothed his tiny hill,
As the rosy cheeks of springs were culled,
He waited

And when the seasons stopped for you,
When time and space seemed to stand still for you,
He peered tentatively out of his window
Caring for nothing but you

Once,
Upon a high hill,
Sitting lonely in his tower,
A little boy once waited for his
Sun’s returning hour

by Enigma
posted on 10/23/2007