House On the Hill

The old house sat on the hill, Looking out to yesteryears. I wondered what the windows saw, As life passed far and near. Empty now, needing repairs, But built sturdy and strong, I walked onto it's porch, I asked, "House, tell me of days long gone." I fell lnto a deep sleep, In a vision I could see, The year 1859, The house was just fallen trees. I watched as slaves labored, Building their master's home, Their sweat stained each board, Today you wouldn't have known. Suddenly the years passed, It was 1862, I saw men dying in gun fire, Soldiers warning gray and blue. I was thrown into blackness, I admit I was scared, Than came the horizon, A beauty beyond compare. I saw a sailing ship, In waters crisp and clean,, Wishing I was the wind in her sails, As she followed the river stream. To my right, children playing. To my left, loved ones layed to rest. I watched saplings grow tall, Where generations flew from their nests. I woke and thanked the house, For allowing me to see, All the wonders of passing times, And how special my new home will be.