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Poems
Dream of the Mad
Just like her namesake, the swan,
Her towers rise gracefully and powerfully into the mist of the Alps.
Her snowy white faces and gentle green peaks
blend symbiotically with the conifer forests below.
Hundreds of rooms laying bare,
seemingly waiting for their beloved Master's jubilant return--
A return that can never be.
Built sheerly from the power of a lonely King's dream, she stands alone, weeping....
Immortal, Neuschwanstein lives forever in all the hearts that beat
to the same rhythm as her father's.
Back to Writing: Poetry: Poems
