Don’t take me back to that mountain.

Where the stories of cowboys and the wild and crazy adventures we shared
Expressed the true manifestation of how much you cared.

Don’t take me back to that mountain.

The one that we climbed together, just you and me,
When I was only as tall as your knee.

Don’t take me back to that mountain.

Where we scaled its rocky middle so high
We could see every inch of the endless blue sky,
Where the sun threatened to swallow us whole as we were
And from the wind came not a refreshing sigh,
Not a stir.

Don’t take me back to that mountain.

Where our clothes adhered to our skin, moist with our sweat.
Oh, what a strenuous trek!
Where our boots were of an iron cast, it seemed,
As they shunned the cacti green.

Don’t take me back to that mountain.

Where beaten and tired as we were,
We found ourselves laughing at nature in its face,
As we wiped the sweat from our brow,
And imagined how our victory would taste.

Don’t take me back to that mountain.

Where I experienced the first sweet taste of my family’s heritage within me.
Where I felt the cool prairie grass beneath my feet.
Where I could see the valleys dip and rise like a shaken bed sheet.

Where the cacti grew wild.
Where the sun always smiled.
Where the coyote bellowed his sorrows to the distant moon in his
Sad, sad melody.
Where the westward wind carried its lonely little tumbleweed.

Don’t take me back to that mountain.

Where the memories shone in my grandfather’s eyes,
As they were captured, forever,
In mine.

Don’t take me back to that mountain.
The one I sigh at, in all its beauty and splendor, as I sit here,
Quietly writing these lines by my window sill.

Don’t take me back to that mountain.

Lest I find that it was only a hill…