the demise of my horses
The demise of my horses
I had been away for a few days
visiting the aunts of Cascais
and found my horses of stone had gone.
Only cheerless holes.
They said they had to widen the road
and beauty had to go.
When a road is enlarged more cars will fill the space.
until the widened road is too narrow.
and we get a motorway.
To cross the road will be impossible and neighbours will become strangers.
Rain or sun, my horses stood here before they were turned into grit
swallowed up by what we call progress.