The Old Mill

Days Gone By

RANDY DEABAY
The path opening up into an open meadow
The former stone mill, broken, just a shadow
The waterwheel yearning of years gone past
Water rushing down the stream so very fast

Old stone wall sorely missing and fallen
The birds on limbs so beautifully calling
The ripple of clear water lapping over small stones
Chills your whole body right to the bones

Evergreens swaying in a summer breeze
Small forest critters more than ready to flee
A spasm of an abandoned old rusty door
A whine of the old broken water wheel

A short term remembrance of yesteryear
A different lifetime long forgotten
Where life's desires were more simple
But ordinary existence had such a vision

Published by RANDY DEABAY

From Maine. Write as a past time. Enjoy poetry and short stories.  View profile

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