Have you seen my village
nestled in between the mountains
bathing in the sun
where the clouds embrace its peaks.
Have you seen my valley
where wind sways wheat the colour of gold
where wine grape carries heavy fruit
in the beginning of Autumn,
along the winding river of my memories.
Have you seen a house on the end of the road ?
Old woman bent to the ground
beneath the passing of time.
Have you walked under stout branches of my trees
along the street with no end
that takes you on the journey with no return.
Have you ever seen my mother fields
faces that no longer exist
wind that no longer blows
golden wheat that no longer grows.
Have you seen the valley of my childhood.
(C)Copyright , Dinka Bednjacic