Google+ photo., innocence, Joy, kevin mcNeal, loss, sorrow, young love
LOVE ON THE HILL
Love was the Indian summer.
Love was a daffodil.
Love was one summer morning
When I met a boy on the hill.
The hill reached up to heaven
And was covered with flowers bright.
The wind was singing softly,
” Love him with all your might.”
I looked at him in the sunlight.
An angel he seemed to be…
My soul blossomed like a flower
And I loved him tenderly.
My soul floated free in sunshine.
It danced in the flowers gay.
He swore he would love me always
‘Til the stars had passed away.’
And like a child I believed him.
I kissed him softly there
On the hill by a sparkling river.
The kiss was like a prayer.
We talked on the hill ’til sundown.
We made plans of future years.
He promised to meet me tomorrow
As he wiped away my tears.
I came to the hill the next morning.
I watched ’til the twilight came.
I stood on the hill in hurt silence
And whispered again his name.
Every year in the early summer
I come to this hill alone
To weep in the sweet-smelling clover
For the love I had scarcely known.
Yu/stan/kema (age 21)