Poetry

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The Old Windmill


I remember that old Windmill
Watching it, I would be in awe
I would sit on the side of the hill
Gazing up at its structure...So tall


I would listen, waiting for a breeze
That would start the blades a turning
A kind of music it would make....
Remembering, my heart is yearning


Yearning... since it was a special time
Going there, talking to God each day
The old Windmill ...would sing its song
As I would rest for a while, then pray


Golden wheat, rustling with movement
A lovely memory, planted in my mind
Such beauty of Nature...Only God Sent
My special place, to relax and unwind


That Windmill ...Is no longer standing
The hillside, now part of a highway
I no longer, can gaze from the landing
Taking in the beauty, day after day


The simplicity of that treasured time
Remains locked away in my heart...Still
The clouds, the wheat, my talks with God
And music from ...The Old Windmill


Copyright 2006 © Judith Johnson Kypta

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