Golden Meadow
There, high upon the dewy mountain sits a lonely cloud, Floating over coloured hills, And over a meadow field of golden daffodils, Stretching in a never-ending line in between the woods like a silent promise. The horses gallop into the red glare of the horizon as the sun sets, And at night they stop besides the lakes and settle as the stars continues to shine, The lake seems to shine as fireflies flutter in the breeze in a spring dance, In such a company, the moon glitters over the dark woods. T
