The charm and the grace of this medieval town,
This village on the hill from fairy tales I’ve found.
My imagination consumes me actively running wild,
I make-believe this is my world, dreaming like a child.
A coffee in the square at a quaint little cafe’,
Shopping and bartering, children at school and play.
The smell of bread baking from the house on the right,
The sound of babies crying as they go to sleep at night.
The hustle and bustle of commuters heading home,
Reuniting with loved ones who’ve spent all day alone.
A kiss on the cheek and a warm and loving embrace,
They sit down to dinner in their pleasant usual place.
Perhaps a night in or an evening on the town,
Spreading out a blanket over the cool and grassy ground.
Staring at the stars in the moonlit summer sky,
The young fall in love as shooting stars go by.
These things that I see in this village on the hill,
Are just my imagination, my mind with pleasure fill.
It sounds so charming, this town from time of old,
With beauty much more precious than diamonds or of gold.
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~