Winding path among ancient giants
Ancient Redwoods tower over her and I
We have our packs on
And boots tied tight
On our way up to the cabin
It sits high among rounded domes
From rustic mortor and logs
To it's hand cut shake shingles
We can't wait to get there
A sacred place to us
We became one there
What a perfect place
To be above all
Our memories of
Cool mornings and coffee on the porch
And an August snowfall
A crackling fire in the fire place
With many a nights
Involving wine drinking and eye gazing
This is where we need to be
Back where we became one
Among summits.
Such a wonderful and beautiful picture you have presented here. Sure makes me long to be there.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
wow! Really you have the ability to create a make believe world. Stupendous!