|
The windmill that I still can
see, While driving down the
road… Is full of so much history,
When once it bore a
load. It used to be, that it brought
forth, Precious water from
below… When people had to pray for
rain, Or at least, the wind to
blow. With missing blades, and
rusted gears, In need of some
repair, A face that’s old and weather
checked, A lot of history
there. Destined now to simply stand
there, It waits so
patiently… For time to pass, ’till it
becomes, Another, ‘used to
be.’
To Send This To A Friend Click The Buttons Below:
|
The Windmill
