Dent by MS
It will never be the same again on Dent, The Timber men have
been, done their job, then went.
Great swathes of carnage by their own hand like a battlefield in
some far forgotten land.
The tunnelled tracks where I ran, once dark and scary, now
opened up are bright and airy.
All my life Dent’s borne proud trees, But the needs of man has
brought it almost to its knees.
Where trees once stood only yesterday lie branches broken, left
to rot and decay.
And I admit I’ve shed a tear for the wildlife and the startled
deer.
What is more I fear, through the eyes of an orienteer, with map
of Dent and compass true, sets off to run his course with haste
only to find in short time his map is laid to waste. A map created
over years, a work of art, clean and neat, Now lies in ruins at his
feet. Will he have the heart, to draw again from a clean sheet.
If you run here on winters eve, through wind and driving rain,
you’ll pass among those lofty trees the ones that still remain,
Just listen carefully as you go, “for fallen brothers” you will
hear their anguished cries of woe.
Yes its true new plantation sown for future generations when
grown to full, will heal the scars of modern man but for how
long, one does not know.
The timber men have been, done their job, then went.
I will never see the same again on Majestic Dent.
There’s nothing left to say except,
Goodnight, Godbless.
From your running Junkie
MS