Denmark

Beneath a sky of endless gray, Where Vikings carved a fearsome way, Denmark rose, a land of might, With longships swift in the fading light.

Fields of barley, vast and gold, Whispered stories, ages old, Of kings and queens, of battles won, Underneath a setting sun.

Now, modern towers pierce the clouds, Where cobbled streets once sang aloud, Bicycles weave, a silent throng, A symphony of bells all gone.

Yet in the heart, a flame remains, In cozy homes and winter rains, Folk songs sung, a whispered plea, For memories, and what used to be.

From rugged shores to bustling squares, A changing land, that time repairs, Denmark stands, a bridge between, The whispers then, the present seen.