Rolling Blue Hills
by Helen George

Traveling the highway, in the distance explode
The rolling blue hills of my childhood abode,
The hills are my strength, they're calling to me,
And I know that back home is where I need to be.

I'm yearning to traverse the hills once again,
Feel the sun on my back, lift my face to the wind,
Reminiscing in silence, as my mind wanders back,
To happier times when I walked the dirt tracks.

At the summit I stop, my heart swells in my chest,
As I calmly survey the distant valley at rest,
For endless miles such beauty abounds,
So quiet and peaceful - in awe I gaze down.

Yes, those splendid blue hills are calling my name,
Weaving their wonder, staking their claim,
I give in to their charm, and I know all is well,
I'm entranced by their beauty, caught in their spell.