The Mountains of Home

 The scarlet splendor at sunset
 Red and yellow sunlight caressing the soft mountains
 A sunday drive in autumn
 Born to beauty, I see it only when I must go...

 A brisk wind from the North bears down on me
 Bracing me for real world
 As I see the town of my birth
 Cradled in the arms of the Blue Ridge
 One last time.

 A sad occasion
 As always for those who came before
 I look to the future with anticipation and hope
 Planning to achieve my dreams.

 But the heart of my soul will always long for this place
 No matter how far across the seas of Earth I travel
 Nor how far in the darkness above.

 I'll never feel quite right
 Until I have mountains around me again-
 Perhaps, they shall be
 The mountains of home.

                                     -B.W. Hall
                                   1 January 1989