Golden brown, a lush trickle
Flows like curly, hanging moss
That tells its own story.
The creepers latch tightly, before two caverns
Black contours surround them
Darkness in the caverns, out flies an angelic flare
Into the wild.
Mountain peak rises, a ridge
It supports a twin fork crown
Down below, it gallantly holds a steed down
Red rivers, a soft powder
Decorates the salient structure
It shines and draws an infectious smile
Raising my ears and lifts my eyes.