There Is A Hill


There Is A Hill

In a little spot called Madras

There is a sloping hill.

I know each bump and hollowed spot,

Have roamed there at my will.

From high atop the crest I gazed

At the world spread 'neath feet,

And wondered what my future held,

What would become of me?

I heard the quacking of the geese

As sailing south they soared.

I lay in grass, watched picture-clouds,

And I was NEVER bored.

Sometimes in thought I go there yet

And climb that hill again.

In memory's trek it's sunny

As on that crest I stand.

Then one more time the world spreads out.

It lies there at my bid.

I have a chance to leave my mark

Not make mistakes I did.

I love the journey through my mind

That leads me to "my place".

It's not expensive, bothers none,

And leaves a joyful trace.

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L.A. Sanders's picture

"There Is A Hill" is a wonderful poem that takes me back to my childhood. It leaves me with a happy memory.


Such a lovely place, in your mind. The images cause tremors in my own inspiration-place. I visit you often, but seldom register. This piece, though, took me back to MY place, with steeper hills and cricks and caves and hollers. I just had to let you know, this time. I'll see you there. Thanks.