Stonegarden Hill

I once knew a boy, ran fast as the wind
to sneak past the Stonegarden Hill.
He grinned as he ran and he laughed as he sinned,
because the truth was too bitter a pill.

Once grown to a man he was dying of thirst
and grew blind to Stonegarden Hill.
If death could be cheated, he vowed he’d be the first
then he toasted denial and self-will.

Everyone was smoking or snorting, he got shot like the rest,
as we laughed at Stonegarden Hill.
But he forgot to study and then he flunked the test,
while the Reaper moved in for the kill.

Today I saw where he went and I sat down to weep,
in that boneyard, on Stonegarden Hill.
He went under, not over, when the hill got too steep
it was just such a waste... and I think of him still.

I hope he found peace where he’s gone, so young for sad requiems
in that bone garden, on Stonegarden Hill.
All a dead man can do is sow the earth with dead dreams,
in stone rows across Stonegarden Hill.

By Jeanne MacGregor Lahn

No comments yet.