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The Hills in the East

The hills in the east looked over the land

where all my days were ordered and planned.

The evenings spent by the sluggish stream

held all of my hopes, my plans, and my dreams.

The hills in the east where a young boy played

beneath the trees in the valley and the grass in the glade.

As I ran through the hills, I would dare to peek

at the crawdads and frogs as they played in the creek.

The hills in the east had the best climbing trees

I would lay in the branches as they swayed in the breeze.

My entire life was stretched open before me

the hills, the trees, the waters restored me.

The hills in the east where the birds sang a tune,

and the owls screeched and flew in the light of the moon.

And the cicades and crickets both sang their song

And added to the melody they all sang along.

The hills in the east was where I called home,

It was there I wandered, in safety I roamed.

But those days are long gone, and now I'm grown.

With a land and a house I can call my own.

I can never go back to my childhood home.

In the hills in the east where the moonlight shone.

Where the trees were my kingdom and the logs were my throne.

And the wind through the trees would cry and moan.

Through the hills in the east, where I called my home.

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