Breskens

In the realm where the winds do softly weave, Stand tall the giants, their arms they cleave. Through fields of gold and skies of gray, They turn with grace to harness Zephyr's sway.

Upon the shore where the waves do play, A path winds on at break of day. The sun ascends in fiery might, To bathe the earth in golden light.

Behold the sentinel, steadfast and true, Who guides the ships through tempest's hue. With beacon bright and tower so high, It stands against the darkening sky.

Across the plains where shadows creep, The sun descends in colors deep. A crimson glow, a violet hue, As day surrenders to the blue.

Once more the lighthouse, proud and old, In twilight's embrace, its tale is told. With skies aflame and sea so wide, It stands as guardian by man's side.

Where sands are kissed by ocean's breath, And distant spires touch clouds of death, The shore stretches in endless line, A boundary 'twixt earth and brine.