Love of the Mountains Two trees on the hillside of a mountain Always looking up toward the sky Remind me of my Papa and my Moma Who lived there 80 years before they died Now the bright moon is shining in the valley That old wagon leans against a stack of hay Two graves on the hillside by the cabin My mom and dad are resting there today The sizzle of the green wood on a fireplace The boiling snow around the redwood trees The branches of the laurels by the creekbed And the rippling waters of a gentle stream Papa used to talk about the young days When he and Moma first were settled there He spoke about the love of the mountains That he and moma shared together there
Posted on: Sat, 10 Aug 2013 23:24:52 +0000
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