THE HILL OF MEMORIES – blindzanygirl

She sat on the hill of memories
Connecting with her past
Stripped of so much that made her human
Remembering happier times
Yearning to return to that place for ever
Knowing she never could

Bring me here at the end saying “Home at Last”

With an ache she remembered the sun
Beating down on the harvest
The celebration on gathering in
The wonderful fruits of their labour
The stars as she walked down the lane
And the love that walked with her there
No she could never go back to that
Deep grief welled up in her heart

Bring me here at the end saying “Home at Last”

With a sigh she turned to the life she had now
Taking with her the memories
That would feed her soul in the coming days
As she grappled with life once again
Knowing those times had made her strong
Strength made perfect in weakness

Bring me here at the end saying “Home at Last”

for more at ‘blind wilderness’, click here:

Published by grumpygorman

I am a Social Worker by day and an artist/writer by night. I use the written word in an attempt to make sense of the secret worlds and dysfunctional dynamics that lurk beneath the facades of our daily interactions. I am not sure how my writing styles are characterized, nor am I overly concerned about it. I am immensely enthusiastic about music and often connect better with songs than I do people. I also have an intense appreciation for quality wines and whiskies, frequently consuming them in excess. I like things that smell good and struggle to manage the symptoms of a life-long relationship with depression. So, why "grumpygorman"? Spend some time here and find out...

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