Down yonder hill most days she trod.
To see her love beneath the sod.
Grim shadows crept near yonder hill.
He died that night, his eyes went still.
A grave, a stone, some small pink lace.
He says I love your winsome face.
She put the pill beneath her tongue.
And died thereon the stone she stood.
Down Yonder Hill
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About the Author
Ray spent 21 years in radio broadcasting followed by 27 years as a real estate appraiser. He taught real estate appraisal at the University of Missouri, Ozarks Technical Community College and St. Charles Community College. Ray loves writing and always has. After Ray retired he attained the Certificate in Higher Education in Creative Writing from Oxford University. Writing short stories for the Certificate was exciting especially since he was in his seventies. Since then the genre has become his obsession and he loves to write them often. His email is [email protected]
