Climbing up a winding road

Passing through an old village

Admiring pillars well crafted

And old wooden staircases

Something in me felt connected

As if I was one of the pieces (ancient!)

Standing on the highest ground

Screaming on top of my voice

Throwing my arms far wide

Viewed around with my eyes moist

Snow peaked mountains and rivers

They are my world without a choice

Sitting in a café river side

Hands wrapped around a cup of tea

Thinking of those times folded

Of that season’s charm and beauty

Some connections in our hearts

Make spaces and stay pretty

Savoring the authentic local flavor

Pleasing the eyes with familiarity

The sound of crisp air makes music

Penetrating the soul utterly

Humanly it’s not possible to hold everything

Things do spill out in all our frailty