Lakes glissen with the shine of brightness
No room for evil in the village of angels.
Sunshine sparkles and sprinkles of whiteness
In the extravengent fields of glory and fortune.
The old gold mill crafts and creates the crystals
That bream from the stream that seems to create them.
Churchs bells ring and ding with a gleem
Smiles all around from the women and men.
Comments about this poem (Crystal Village by Arron Fowler )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
William Ernest Henley
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings