On This Hill
The summer breeze gently blows,
Cooling the hot, humid afternoon air.
I sit down in the soft, green carpetThat nature has laid under this old Oak Tree.
Quietly, I contemplate.I draw deep, full breaths.And staring off into the countryside,I sigh.
Have you ever stopped long enoughTo realize how far you’ve strayedFrom your childhood dreams?
Have you ever come to the placeWhere you’d give everythingTo have them back again?
On this hill, I remember them.On this hill, I long for those dreams once again.
You see, we get so busy,Doing whatever it is we do,That we lose our capacity for wonder,For dreaming.
But not on this hill.
Here, I quiet my soul.I stare into the distant countrysideAnd breathe deeply.
Here, I dream again.
If only the rest of the worldWould come sit with me a while.
This poem © Kevin Walker. Published August 2013.