This is a poem I had to write for english class. I like it, I want to know what you people think.
Thereís a house up on a hill, a house I helped build
I see outlines of small people, sublime sihlouettes
I canít make out their faces, because this is just a dream
But I know I am one of them, looking back at me
There is nothing I can do, except stand back and watch
Retracing the paths of the sleds with my foot, is something i will never do
I canít join the figures, I canít get any closer
All I can do is stop their sihlouettes from turning transparent
By writing this poem
And remembering in a cold silent monologue of what used to be
It's basically about me remembering something from my childhood.
Tell me what you think!