EAST HILLS

EAST HILLS

BY Lindsay Lopez

These hills are home, where my story begins

The earth remembers my laughter, my wins.

I'm proud of the soil, the streets, the stone

For no matter my age, they'll call me their own.

No matter the journeys, the places I roam

No matter the years, it will always be home.

The sun rises east, steady and true

A mirror of me, and all that I do.

Beautiful days spill light through the sky

Colors of memory that never run dry.

With every horizon, one truth I have known

These hills are my heart, they'll always be home.