My House On A Hill

I lived on a hill, away from neighbors,

Away from the city and all of its strangers,

When I was a child, I had to grow old.

I hadn't a choice, was what I was told.

My mother and brother are all i would have,

He had to work,

For himself and our bread.

My mother was sickly,

Her spirit was dead.

And one morning I woke,

I thought all was fine,

But then I saw him in tears,

These were my worst fears.

She was too young to go, that's what they all would say,

I missed her more than anyone,

It grew worse everyday.

The time came upon me when I had to just leave,

My mind was cloudy and full of grief.

I never returned to my house on the hill.

Never i did, And never I will.