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.

 

◄ French , "the language of love"

night clubs ►

Comments

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Stephen Gospage

Thu 22nd Jul 2021 15:54

This is a great poem, Jan.

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