Jungle of The Realms

Jungle of the realms of a winter song,
Those inter through the wasteland where life walked;
The dreams now in twilight ways I now long,
And laid into the roads that once were chalked.

The gouging of the rivers kissed with snow,
And whistling of breeze tangled in the woods;
The bitter frost in footsteps and its glow,
What lies beneath in its forgotten hoods.

Rising of the morning in it's silver gray,
On the buried seeds coming up in spring;
The mountain clouds and mist in its play,
When first of dawn comes up to wake and sing.

Homeland of the winter going close by,
Vineyards of the withering and frosty high.