Hartvíkovice
There used to be a campsite,
Place that would just invite
You to return,
Watch the campfire burn,
Play the guitar and sing the night away.
All in all a feast, joy and holiday,
Forests, waters, grass, harvest air,
And almost a love affair.
Game as such over. Those days are gone and out of reach.
The decades created an abyss
And no bridge.