deepundergroundpoetry.com
windmill Hill
It's been said
if you were to stop and listen
your still likely to hear the wooden joists creak
And grind together on breezy nights, the low rumble
of the mill stone as the blades caught up in the gust.
I've been to that spot many times, stopping to pause to catch my breath
to reward oneself with reaching the summit with glorious views.
I never heard the joists creak or the rumbling stone, long gone,
all I hear now are the i love you's on the breeze,
carrying you closer to me,
the mill may well be long gone
and people will say they hear it still,
But all I hear is you on the breeze,
this is reward enough.
if you were to stop and listen
your still likely to hear the wooden joists creak
And grind together on breezy nights, the low rumble
of the mill stone as the blades caught up in the gust.
I've been to that spot many times, stopping to pause to catch my breath
to reward oneself with reaching the summit with glorious views.
I never heard the joists creak or the rumbling stone, long gone,
all I hear now are the i love you's on the breeze,
carrying you closer to me,
the mill may well be long gone
and people will say they hear it still,
But all I hear is you on the breeze,
this is reward enough.
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