Untitled Sonnet (by me)

Standing on top of the world, feeling the
Wind in my hair, on my face, seeing miles
And miles in each direction. The birds seem
To fly lower than me. They make me smile.

The sun is low in the sky, reflecting
Off of each tiled rooftop: red, blue, brown, slate.
The sky bright white from its orbs’ wandering
Lights this tower, once a protective gate.
The countryside shimmers, colors abound,
Green and orange and gold; hedges and grass,
Fields full of sheep, so fluffy and so round;
Shepherds watching them, watching the time pass.

Finally, down the steep stairs I descend,
Back to reality: class to attend.