I come here to watch the sun go down. I come here every evening and see the colors meld and blend with each other. They swirl in brilliant displays of blues and reds and yellows. I come here to watch the sun go down.

I come here to sit and watch the sun go down. I sit here in my tree in a field away from any civilization. I sit on my branch, perfectly parallel to the ground. I lean my back against my tree and listen to the sleepy noises of the evening. I come here to sit and watch the sun go down.

I come here to think, and sit, and watch the sun go down. I think about life, and school, and home. I think about what is going on over there, so far away. What it was that took my brother away for so long, so far away. I come here to think, and sit, and watch the sun go down.

I come here to remember, and think, and sit, and watch the sun go down. I remember all the fun we used to have. He used to go down to the river and swim with his friends and, sometimes, he would invite me to come along. Those were great times. I come here to remember, and think, and sit, and watch the sun go down.

I come here to wait, and remember, and think, and sit, and watch the sun go down. I wait for him to come home. I miss him. Sometimes he writes letters, but, I can tell, he never says what he really feels. I come here to remember, and think, and wait, and sit, and watch the sun go down.

I come here to hope, and wait, and remember, and think, and sit, and watch the sun go down. I hope that he’s ok. One of his buddies died a month ago. They said a large piece of shrapnel hit him in the head after an exploding shell; he was killed instantly. Another boy died a week later. I pray god protects my brother. I come here to wait, and hope, and think, and remember, and sit, and watch the sun go down.

I come here to watch the sun go down. I come here to see the display of blues and reds and yellows blend together. I come here to sit on my branch in my tree. And I come here to wait for my brother. I come here to watch the sun go down.