Poetry

A Whimsical Memory

A Whimsical Memory

The old mill stood majestically in the sun beaten world,
Wood splintered dry, portraying an era that had flourished long before.
Her millstones would never turn to the rhythm of crushed grain…

Or create the beads of sweat that roll silently
Down an old man’s back.

Why

Why

A body limp with death, lies at the bottom of a bridge. Was it really worth it? People converge on the body blabbering, smiling, all stuffing their faces with dinner. Why did he do it? A police officer appears…