OAK HILL

Many, many years ago
Mother Earth stooped down;
Cupper her hands full of soil,
And whispered, “My town.”

She stood there, knowing
That she held the little gem,
She knew of some Welsh men,
And said, “This is for them.”

She knew they would come,
That they would gather in;
Seeking a home away from home,
Her wheels began to spin.

Down through the years,
So much has happened here;
In this hamlet of the Welsh,
They came from far and near.

Perhaps this is imagination,
But it gives one a thrill
To know one way or another,
It ended up “Oak Hill.”

     By Mary K. Kiser Evans,
                                Oak Hill