Tell me what painting you think it is and tell me if you like it or not.
As I walk through the hills,
I get the chills,
When a cool breeze passes by,
Blowing the lone cypress tree standing in the distance.
The tree is the piece de resistance,
My favorite part of this place.
For I too, am alone,
A traveler on my own.
Like the cypress,
I watch this peaceful town.
And while I look up at the stars I start to frown,
Knowing I will not be here again soon.