Istein

Everything about this little town just feels right. On a lazy Sunday afternoon, the train runs by smoothly, someone and his dog enjoying their quiet walk. So, I stayed here all day lost in my thoughts.
In the heart of this quiet town,
Where whispers of the wind are soft,
The streets are bathed in gentle light,
And all is well, no signs of loss.
A vineyard stretches, rows of green,
Where grapes bask in the midday sun,
The scent of wine begins to rise,
As hours of daylight slowly run.
A distant train hums through the hills,
Its whistle low, yet clear and bright,
It winds past vines and golden fields,
In steady rhythm, calm and light.
In every home, a peaceful heart,
In every window, glowing light,
This town, a haven, quiet, still,
Where everything is just… alright.