Our Hills

Finding exalted pleasure playing happily in the hills. Memories of the softly undulating land called the hills. A welcome meeting place for frolicking in the sun with friends. We could all be seen from afar playing on the grassy hills Remembering Bob Moore trudged up the hill looking for Kelly. She hadn’t been home, she was seen by many, playing on the hills. A search party was organized to look for the missing child. All the wildflowers were trampled by the searchers on our hills. We were all sent home that day, no one allowed to play at all. Spending carefree days in the sun no more, all banned from the hills. Police did their duty very well searching for dear Kelly. They searched every one’s home after they looked all over the hills. Rumors were rife in the Village about sweet Kelly missing. Some folk believed evil lurked in the dark shadows of the hills. We children missed our beloved playing, midst the soft grasses. We stayed and did chores, no more fun, no more playing in the hills. Noticed by some that old Mick hadn’t been with his cart of vegies. Weekly he brought his cart full of produce from across the hills. Mick’s old, might be too much trekking his cart from market gardens. Besides he might have heard there was troubled danger in the hills. Concerned folk asked police check on him, make sure he was alright. Mick was home, he was scared, he heard there was evil in the hills. Curious, police checked his truck, opened, and they peered inside. There lay poor little Kelly, no more will she play in the hills.