A rocky road ascends on
high
to a mystical
place
in the sky.
The entrance may be covered with
snow
giving access to
few,
and those who know.
The winding road has treacherous
places
cliff side turns, and shadows
that
look like faces.
The road is not laden with many
tracks
it’s smooth, yet rough
with
crevasses and cracks.
At the Y of the road, one starts to
know
this mystical
place
will have no snow.
Wild flowers in bloom fed by the
sun
a place to leave troubles;
a place to have fun.
Light headed, light hearted, rolling in
flowers
a trip to the
paradise
can last for
hours.
The heart can’t contain nor words
convey
it’s food for the
soul
in every way.
As darkness covers the magic of this
place
it fades away
without a trace.
It lays in waiting; but, out of
sight
its beauty rests
through the night.
Oh! but ‘er waken by the
sun
this place is
mystical;
this place is
fun.
Barnum Taylor ©
1994