Land of Royalty
By: Addison Byrne
Subtle, yet magestic is he;
Winds are splayed evenly across his brow,
Muscles of plaster and stone,
sprout with ridges among his immaculate hills and valleys intricate in design;
yet sings a gentle song, a story that tells us of Rhine.
Territory wars are apparent,
as castle walls of 1200 are covered and marked of long ago,
But his emblems and crests are there to remind us of his retaining power.
His cottages cling to ancestoral ghosts;
precious families past
They sit as if untouched, but hold new babes within the beat of warm hearths.
He peeks beyond looming grey and crisp cold,
colour arises in villages and markets,
smiles of o’mas and o’pas,
Beir foams at the peeks of growlers, along with fire of Apel Alkohol.
Every stone and speck has it’s place,
His ancient roots will never die,
Estates and landlords step across his threshold,
But it’s his and always will be