Far away from the busy cities and the darkened skies,
Out of reach of the oppressive society and a certain demise,
Lies a promising land of natural splendours,
Separated and secluded from restless endeavours.
Through a complex web of highways
That unwinds to a toll free of charge on Sundays,
And opens up on a one-way rural road,
Unveiling a tranquil path seldom followed.
Down the green valleys, across the green lake,
You’ll see the Green village in its traditional state,
Across the green chapel with its moss-covered steeple,
Stands the village square and all of its people.
There is a special place, where kisses can last,
A green-eyed couple lie on a carpet of grass,
Swapping saliver and kisses by the green oak tree,
A sad teen, watches with green eyes, enviously.
On the cliff tops overlooking the green sea,
Sits the ivy green tombstome of Old Mary,
Beautiful and wise she was, held in high esteem,
I believe she herself was fond of the colour green.
Pierre Gaudy, 2OIB1 (First Prize ASIBA Poetry competition junior category)