Bernard Shaw - Derelict Mill.

Over looking the valley all is still,

I see the remains of a derelict mill.

Tattered and torn her once proud sails,

For she has seen the most fearsome of gales.

Horses once plodded through the summers heat,

Pulling carts with sacks full of ripened wheat.

With a steady wind nearly every hour,

Appeared a full sack of finely ground flour.

But alas the Miller retired and moved away,

The mill is unoccupied to this very day.

The Baker in the village was called to war,

Another brave man that came back no more.

Now bread comes from a factory far away,

Deliveries every second or third day.

Yes the valley is very still,

Without the Miller and his windmill.

The bread is not that what it used to be,

So I make my own it is fresh you see.

I buy my flour from another mill,

Bake my bread and eat my fill.

Memories of the good old days,

Compensating for the times gone by,

I have had to change my ways,

For this I could truly cry.

Bernard Shaw

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