The monolith stood grave
and silent
surveying his domain.
Once a proud beacon;
a symbol
for his people.
No longer.
But he is not
forgotten.
The songbirds
now sing
his praises
and the breezes
carry
sweet fragrances to him.
The rainclouds dance
and gently bath him
and the sun shines down
to wrap him
in warmth.
The Way Stone
will watch over this forest
until the songbirds
no longer sing.
Copyright (C) 2018 Penny Wilson
*This is in response to SuE Vincent’s Thursday Photo Prompt. If you’d like to join in, you can find out all about the fun HERE.
