'The Windmiller's Guest'

Written by: Deborah Burch

'The Windmiller's Guest'

I faced him, with my back to love
Above the village street. 
And, told him, 'No', that I thought of
Adventures less concrete. 

This land ship held no hope for me
Of life beyond this place
And, with my answer I could see
The look upon his face. 

His pipe he held unsatisfied,
Still, love his only view,
Like roses past their bloom had died
And lost their fragrant hue.