Wisteria hung low, drifting in and out of shadows.
Lavender wisps flickering through warm breezes,
the village was alive and blossoming.
Cascading shades of green trickled over stonewalls,
under wrought iron gates and into the distant horizon.
The children emerged, slowly at first,
feet tapping along worn cobblestone streets.
Muffled sounds quickly became loud drums
marching through pale city scenes.
Tapping turned to twirls and soon they were emerged in dancing.
Their golden colored hair, dusted in sunlight,
floated above shoulders and tall brick barriers.
Laugher wrapped around in circles, endless,
like a freshly bound bouquet of flowers.
They were young and free,
full of sweet wanderlust and dreams.
Youth encompassed them,
and the world was in their hands.