a swing in Sintra

(if you build it, they will come)

because we’re all kids

i brought the headlamp

across five thousand miles

to hang this laundry

after some craft beer

named after Portuguese cat

this hill ain’t so bad

a fairy tale walk

on sidewalks as slick as ice

and crazy drivers

for now, there’s Sintra:

a walk through winding gardens

with castles atop

our bus for six weeks

because comfort rules the road

for summer in Spain

marked by red and white

where two empires unite

to win the faith fight

my fairy tale bridge

spanning ten generations

of innovation

eighteen years ago

my Airman spent a night here

(a dream to return)

my fearless oldest

ran past these slippery rocks

to get the best view