My
Forest
Long
years ago fateful clouds,
heralds
of the Golden Pasture's end,
gathered
over a peaceful place
on
the shore of a jewel-like lake.
Rain
changed the face of the valley,
when
all expired under the falling mountain.
The
renewer of life, spring returned.
Plants
grew again on the tomb.
Strong
conifers rose on rocks,
overshadowing
with their wide branches
many
greencovered caves,
secret
places of joyful play.
After
many years, I found vanished
my
childhood's magic place.
This
time killed by the hands of men.
A
large road marred the place
like
a terrible scar a pretty face.