The old red hill is standing alone
Waiting for another era of glory
Its summit seem to lean more now
No one will ever know all its story.



Of wagons trains passing this way
Weary pioneers resting in the shade
Being in doubt about the future
They all sat in silence and prayed.



Of children climbing to the summit
And rolling down the other side
Scrambling here and there playing
And looking for places to hide.



In all it's majesty it stands there
Its place in history is almost nil
Stop by there sometime and listen
To the winds sing the song of the hill.
Ralph L. Clark © 2006
All Rights Reserved

Thank you for visiting with me!

Page created by Joan
7-21-2009

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