Where are you going,
over those stones,
past those old cliffs,
the colour of bones.
Through ancient forests
you tumble and twist,
until at long last
you are lost in the mist.

Photo by James Aitchison
Where are you going,
over those stones,
past those old cliffs,
the colour of bones.
Through ancient forests
you tumble and twist,
until at long last
you are lost in the mist.

Photo by James Aitchison