Writers' Corner

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The Other Side of the Hill
The old folks talked of being over the hill,
And I overheard as children will.
They talked of places they'd been and seen;
I wondered, what could all this mean?
Being young, I thought it must be a thrill
To be on the other side of the hill,
And hoped to some day find and to see
What the top of the hill had for me.
The years went by and with the passing time,
I plodded along on my upward climb,
'Til one long night as I lay in my bed,
Troubled thoughts whirled through my head,
Of all the bones that creaked and ached,
And the little worries that kept me awake.
Truth dawned; I sat up with a chill
My Gosh! I'm ON the other side of the hill!
   by Dorothy Miller Birdwell