You Were By My Side
by Anita Mae Draper, September 21st, 2009
based on the Oregon Trail Ruts, Guernsey, Wyoming
On a cold, windy September day
I climbed upon a hill
An aura of expectation filled me
yet time stood still
I usually don’t stray off the path
but this wasn’t a usual day
I couldn’t see from where I stood
so I walked the rest of the way
And peering over the weathered ledge
down where the wagons rolled
The trail was there for all to see
the pioneers of old
The limestone had been worn down
five feet deep in spots
From wagons loaded up with treasures
food and cooking pots
Just standing there wasn’t enough
I needed to feel it too
So I stepped down between the ruts
and you stepped down there, too
My eyes filled with tears that day
and like a babe I cried
But I was not alone up there
for you were by my side
Did you hear the grunt of straining men
who pulled upon the ropes?
Or pushed the wagons up the hill,
the incentive was their hopes?
Mothers and sisters trod along
making their own path
Wearing smooth the limestone rocks
and wishing for a bath
and like a babe I cried
But I was not alone up there
for you were by my side
Did you hear the grunt of straining men
who pulled upon the ropes?
Or pushed the wagons up the hill,
the incentive was their hopes?
Mothers and sisters trod along
making their own path
Wearing smooth the limestone rocks
and wishing for a bath
The laughter of children running about
as children often do
Not realizing history was being made
upon the hilltop, too
The wagon master cracks his whip
urges the team to go
No stopping ‘til the crest is reached
and then he hollers ‘Whoa!’
I hear it all like it was then,
I smell the sweat drift by
The harness brass is clinking,
a baby starts to cry
And as the sounds fade away
my tears begin to dry
The moment’s passed and I’m still here
atop the hill so high
The laughter of children running about
as children often do
Not realizing history was being made
upon the hilltop, too
The wagon master cracks his whip
urges the team to go
No stopping ‘til the crest is reached
and then he hollers ‘Whoa!’
I hear it all like it was then,
I smell the sweat drift by
The harness brass is clinking,
a baby starts to cry
And as the sounds fade away
my tears begin to dry
The moment’s passed and I’m still here
atop the hill so high
So many years have passed since
the Oregon Trail was used
No hint of vandalism here
no proof it’s been abused
I thank the men in government
who let us wander here
Without the chains to cordon off
not even threat of deer
I wandered much upon that hill,
I even sat and sighed
But I wasn’t lonely there that day
for you were by my side.
