stuck high, high in a fog
glistening bulbs, whispering
reminiscences of gold and pinks,
of blues and greens,
wading through a marshland
crisscrossing streaks of dreams
wishing upon a falling star
rustle of trees, savoring the breeze
the sweet, crisp wind and icy glares
melted, blasted into watery gazes
with the grinning avalanches
and warm, warm smile,
a mystery, a marathon mystery
twisting through woods
and bridging mountains to the next
a marathon mystery
an ongoing memory