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Gray day, the mist which rises
the dirt road, leading an unknown distance.
Only crows which exceeds the blanks
as dry grass sway in the wind.
Near a small hill, on the crosses,
face bare, only rain and wind them Smaga.
These crosses the human suffering of the prior years,
of hard work in captivity, the crosses mark.
Stand in the wilderness, no one visits them,
because the case no longer applies, by the people
forgotten with the grayness of the day,
far-field crosses stand alone.
Only the birds sit on them to rest,
sometimes stray passerby stops
wanting to understand why there are these crosses,
listening to the sea, they say it to him.
Lonely dirt road crosses the are
smali which the sun, the rain washes and wind whistles
deer often put up with them
because it is the only who know that this place is.
Phil..
Thank you for that wonderful slide show
Regards carl
~Magickal Graphics~
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