Gartan Lake
On the edge of gartan lake a forest path once lead, to a clearing down amongst the trees with only stars up over head.
There I slept and fished by night,
The little fly cast in twilight.
The parr I caught, released was he, now strong I hope, that it may be.
A walking trail they did decide, put by the lake, along the side.
The beauty once, wild and free, could be found down amongst the trees.
The trees now torn, a path replaced, human kind, be disgraced.
For who are you, to lay down claim, to land belonged to all the same.
The chirping now, far and thin, from the paradise, it had once been.
The sorrow deep, for what was lost, do they even see what the cost?
Distracted, busy, a busy bee. Too busy to think, too busy to see.
One day I pray the trees reclaim, the land now stolen for the lane.
The little church, upon the hill, as I approach, no longer thrill.
The little path, once walked alone, paradise over, paved by stone.
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