The hill of huts

It beckoned from afar
when I stepped ashore
in the brightness
of the spring sun

I trod its slopes
the time before
affording me
a view beyond compare

The hill of huts
now sunken
into moorland mire
looking far and wide

Snowy mountains north
and east
rolling hills
away to the south

It afforded me
a closer view
of a friendship
beyond compare

Worthy of a prize
written and sung
I'll come back
below the hill