The Mill Wheel
The Mill wheel wouldn't turn until the Spring
The joyful reapers had long since departed.
What bleakness these dark wintry months would bring;
Her death had left him numb and heavy-hearted.
No longer would he hear her sweet refrain
Or share the joy of harvest’s bounteous yield,
Her hand in his he’d never hold again
Nor feel her warmth as when their love was sealed.
'Whispers ran through the town from door to door'
‘She’s gone! The poor old miller’s wife has died’
No eye was dry, it cut folk to the core
To see him sit alone at eventide.
But changing seasons soften aching pain,
The rippling stream flows on, a new path seeks.
The cogs of life start turning once again,
Ice melts, revealing secrets- wheel creaks.
And every slow rotation calls to mind
The treasured memories which love entwined.
For the contest : Mill Wheel
Sponsored by: Viv Wigley
20/07/18
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