The Hill

Jack followed Jill up the hill
It's said to fetch some water.
With his knife, he took her life
In a sick and bloody slaughter.

Jill, they found upon the ground;
She'd been gutted, throat to knee.
Where'd Jack go? No one did know,
And no one saw the monster flee.

No fair maid, Jill plied her trade
Underneath the willow trees,
Laid to rest in Sunday best
While birds danced--with honeybees.

Time stood still upon the hill
As the curch emptied below.
They looked up high, asking why?
Where was our God, where did He go?

Years have passed into the past
While each day rolled into night.
Willow trees, with rustling leaves,
Stand guard above the chapel white.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem