It’s peaceful on the hill
sitting in the shade of a tree
as a gentle breeze blows,
air cooling warm skin.
It’s peaceful overlooking
all who were,
all who live on still,
watching visitors come in.
It’s peaceful on the hill
looking at trees of green,
clouds of white
and birds that fly by day.
It peaceful on the bench
where I sit in silent prayer
at the tombstone
where my father lay.
So, while we’re sad
knowing they have passed
time marches on
and they’re with us still.
And, if you sit waiting,
in quiet solitude,
they’ll sit beside you
where it is peaceful on the hill.
© Leslie C Dobson
If you liked this poem, you can find additional ones on the poetry page of my website.