ON THIS MOUNTAIN

As a child, he lived here many years before,

The great depression was not a time of all pleasant things.

It was, however, a time of childhood, a sunset for some,

There was a family of fathers and mothers, sons and daughters.

A boy was he of seventeen, a dreamer, a writer,

He had nothing but he had also everything.

On this mountain in Virginia, he was born,

So many days ago, long gone are they now.

He wrote his many thoughts by a lamp in the night,

Played games with his brothers and sisters.

Together this family sat together for dinner each night,

A lifetime ago is when this story was told.

By a boy whom with his family struggled but did laugh as they

Were blessed with much love and togetherness,

On this mountain, once upon a time.

Keith Garrett