My Soul Lies in These Hills
I heard the cry of seagulls far away.
It echoed in the chambers overhead
And lingered in my ears a while,
So serene and peaceful in the still.
The world, it lay below and all around,
Its vast expanse seemed but a speck to me.
For I was queen while sitting on my throne.
My kingdom was the Cleveland Hills back home.
Many times I’d wandered cross these hills,
Spent my hours in shaded, craggy coves,
Feeling the north wind strong against my face,
And fighting back the tears that filled my soul.
How could I leave the northlands that I love?
No more to see the mist upon the sea,
Or climb my hills with joy welled up inside,
Knowing I had freedom from the world.
Too soon I had to leave my land behind,
But yearned to see Rosebury one more time.
I walked her grassy slopes and stood aloof,
Pining for heart, it would not leave.
A spring, it lay not very far away,
I stooped and cupped my hands to drink.
Its water pure, just like my ancient hills.
I walked away and left my soul behind.
I chanced to meet one morning,
An aged man, so wise.
His clothes, they were of ancient cut,
And shifty were his eyes.
He spoke to me in tones so low,
Of marvels he had seen.
Places travelled, mystic names,
Where I had never been.
So intent, I sat transfixed,
For hours the old sage spoke.
It was as if my own desires,
Had suddenly awoke.
At length I had to break away,
Though still his stories flowed.
We parted in our separate ways,
To each his homebound road.
But reaching home, I came to earth,
I laughed though it wasn’t funny.
For as the elder stole my thoughts,
He also stole my money.