Trompe Loeil – Saylor Square Gray Stone
This is the place where I’d sit and play the Moonlight Sonata
Mellow yellow lemony breezes, fresh croissant sniffs and sneezes …
There at the green shores the ancient castle still towers the cliffs…
Somewhere around nothing…
Who is the real puppeteer, who is pulling the strings?
There at the Highcastlecliffs the prince of the woods stood watch and witnessed the awakening of Spring…
And here we have our dreamy-pastels living room at the Summer Olive inn …
Surrounded by Ancient trees some say they are descendants from those who carried the lights…
A kitchen filled with springtime whispers…
Waves of mystical times rustle through the springtime leaves…
The splendour of Mother Earth even covers the Trenches of men
And there beyond the shores of the rising Sun you will find the last of the light…
