Poezja

 
Deep in a Black Forest,
lost along a mystic stream.
Where the winds still whisper,
a thousand untold dreams.

Enchanted shadows,
kicking frosted leaves.
Sleep at night’s darkness,
wake upon a moonlit breeze.

Castled ruins in disbelief,
sap blistered lips unseen.
Singing Austrian pines in chorus,
beneath an idyllic scene.

Dancing high betwixt the hills,
hide an’ seek, and make-believe.
Pine cones popping tear-dropped treasures,
wave a kiss goodbye, "Auf Wiedersehen!"