In the woods at night
Noticed when walking past the woods in the centre of this
town I had come to live many years ago was getting thinner,
rather like Castro’s beard that used to be so lush; I used to
walk here with my girlfriend, loved her and believed in true
love, alas, she though I was eccentric and used to regal her
shrieking friends in the bar with what I had said during our
trysts, and the woodland lost its enchantment.
Looked inside and discovered a wasteland of trees pulled
up by their roots and waiting for the chainsaw, nature had
lost another battle against bricks and mortar, only a necklace
of trees to give the illusion of forest. They were going to
build luxury bungalows here, protected from the glare of
the plebs by a ring of trees, houses advertised as investment
and not homes where one can find shelter from the storm.