My Hills, My Home
Ken Williams
2009

There is comfort in the familiar,
Even when just the mind travels far,
The hills clothed in wooded array,
In shadowed night or bright day,
Winding roads and clear cool stream,
And hidden pools where wavelets gleam,
Cozy cabins nestled on the ridge side,
Cousins and neighbors far and wide,
I wandered round the world to see,
What was past our old oak tree,
I saw all of that and war’s sparks,
And dreamed always of the Ozarks,
Seasons come and go, bringing change,
The scenes grow, flowing on to rearrange,
And time slides swiftly, taking friends away,
Old or new, here is still the best, I say,
From where ever I roam,
My hills, my home.