Outside my house there is a hill
That I would often climb
And on this hill, throughout my life
I would find different ways to spend my time.
When I was young, it was for the adventure
For who didn't like a little fun
And I was a warrior, tried and true
There was never a battle I hadn't won.
As I got older, it was more to see the view
And sit in quiet contemplation
Or perhaps write a poem or paint
As it did give me inspiration.
But now I am truly old,
And I can barely climb this hill.
Sometimes it feels like it's not worth it;
Each time I try, I'm met with a chill.
But even though I may doubt,
I know that I should not quit;
Because each time I climb this hill,
I know it may be the last time I do it.
As I look and see the memories I made,
A smile will cross my face;
For as long as I remain on this earth,
I will always remember this place.
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Imagination
Poetryim·ag·i·na·tion /iˌmajəˈnāSH(ə)n/ noun the faculty or action of forming new ideas, or images or concepts of external objects not present to the senses. Otherwise known as "Musings of the Balladeer." This is an anthology of poetry I've written...
