By G.J. (8th Grade)

In the heart of the Balkans
(Or somewhere near there)
Below the sky of the falcons
The town of Cherven lies here.

Three families with young children
And a few more mature
Drove to far off Cherven
For the countryside they’d tour.

On the fourth day of our vacation,
We decided to serve ourselves a treat,
For we set out towards the mountain;
We planned to conquer that great feat!

We made short work of that mountain
Climbing up rocks and steep slopes
Past all growing vegetation
Yet with no ease nor help of ropes.

In no short time, we scaled that mountain
In a horribly painstaking style,
For we ignored all transportation,
Oh, we walked every single mile!

Yet during our journey
Up that elevated hill
A hound joined our odyssey
Who we call ‘Bufford’ still.

That dog’s fortunate breed
Or favored pedigree
I have forgotten, indeed,
So I can not tell ye.

He led us to his fortress
The castle of Cherven
Once a mighty Bulgarian palace
Now just another ruin.

With none but us alone,
We explored that castle’s reach
Skipping from wall to fallen stone,
Counting every single breach.

While we stood proud and tall
Towering far above the land
There a thankfulness crept over all
That we had such a sight on hand.

We hiked down as we were leaving
With the dog as our guide
For it was quite obvious he was leading
And we were there for the ride.

When we reached home
We had such a story to tell
Of the dog we had met
And that no one fell.