yellow_hills endless desire Speeding through the yellow hills One side burnt by fire The other golden in the sun One set of trees, dried and wirey Another set, lush and green, Sits proud, teasing the dried, the unfortunate. Look closely, whispers the wind. Golden Hill is not as bright as the others. Brown spots visible. . . But (the) Golden Hill continues to taunt. Inside it hates its dark tinge, And wishes to shine like the others. Teasing makes it feel as though it is shining bright. 'That's not fair' says she. No, it is not, whispers the wind, Softly echoing through her ears, The Golden Hill doesn't see its beauty. If it did, it would not tease, continued the wind. The girl looks at the hills differently now. Beauty in the speckled one is easily found. People and The Golden Hill have a lot in common. 030630 what's it to you? who go blather from