"ANGEL'S HILL"     Sitting high on the hill I look over at this pretty setting. Taking in the cold fresh air in long deep breaths, a tear silently rolls down my face. I am in a special place, a sacred place. This place has a serenity that I have never known. I feel a sense of calm and peacefulness.   As the wind blows the little hill comes alive with bright   windmills all twirling in the breeze, windchimes tinkle in the trees and it seems almost surreal.        I close my eyes....... if you  listen hard enough you can hear them -                             giggling and laughing as they swoop down to earth and then back to the heavens.   They are happy, free to go wherever but always coming back   briefly to this place where their little bodies were laid to rest.   They are just spirits, little souls that are forever connected to us. When the sun shines through the gum trees, across this   bright place you can almost see them, dancing and playing together. They are angels and through the mist of my tears I   think I can see my little angel. He is smiling and even though I long to hold him, to touch him, I know I cannot.   He is with me always but it is here that I feel the closest to him. I sense that he is happy and nothing can harm him and   knowing this eases my sadness. I sit and time almost seems to stop while I enjoy the sensation of him being so near.   It is time to go though I don't want to leave him.     The tears are again flowing and I wonder if the trickling waterfall   at the bottom of this "Angels Hill" was created from the tears     of all the mothers who had to say goodbye to their precious ones.   I look forward to the next time that I visit my son Declan and   his special place. As I walk down the path I can almost hear   them all whispering goodbye. I turn for one last glimpse and   as if to say farewell the windmills all start turning in their   colourful brilliance. This is a magical place.   Written by Lissa Marshall   Dedicated to my special Angel, Declan. 29/6/99