Bosnia, The Precious Poem by Josh Alfred

A blue tiny church rests on a small hill
Over looking Bosnia, as if it always will.
Vacant now, but people live around.
Azure mountains, and building's roofs all orange.
Green bush and tree, and sinuous road-ways
Deep valleys flat with green Earth.
Dancers all in get up,
Moving with a splendid mirth.
Car drives in and out of byways
Do these eyes even deserve,
The preciousness of Bosnia?
A gem to eye, hinting at a glint
Of all the land is worth.