The Lost City of El Dorado

There's a land not like any other,
 Its on the map but to search some don't even bother.
 Where rumor has it that its streets are lined with gold,
 That its simply a beauty to behold.
 There was a time when no one knew of it,
 Then came great ships rediscovering lands, bit by bit.
 And the ancient stories spoke of mountains of gold,
 But as time passed by new stories would unfold.
 Since no one ever saw this great big city,
 Its must have been concealed by some very witty.
 This rare beauty that sometimes, of it, you'd hear them rant and shout,
 This was their target, searching all about.
 Yet this land they landed on must be the place,
 For the natives were decorated with gold, one, all over her face.
 So where was the fabled flowing gold river?
 Many failed in their search, the old lady told her story with a shiver.
 As her eyes widened and grew so bright,
 Her story must be real as she proclaimed it with all her might.
 So I sat there and took in her every word,
 My stomach excited like the flapping wings of a infant bird.
 Could this be real all that she said,
 I wonder how many on this quest had bled?
 Yet as the years passed by, the lands too had changed,
 Civilization had advanced but this golden city was still out of range.
 Now here I am old and tattered,
 The tales of the old woman broken and shattered.
 Or is it I sometimes ask myself,
 Maybe in my country, somewhere hidden is all that wealth.
 And then I look around and admire my home,
 All the joyful memories, its changes, through it I've grown.
 And as time flew by I have now begun to see,
 That the gold they speak of, is nature, its beauty and its glee.
 For the city of gold is not what the stories have meant,
 It represented something greater not material like the search, wasted time spent.
 But on a home, beautiful, peaceful as my home is so,
 This is the true land, Guyana, the lost city of El Dorado