Mill Wheel

The Mill wheel wouldn't turn until the Spring Vacant, her eyes, with the lack of remembering, Cold infusion from air and stare in the late afternoon, fire embers die as the ghosts fill the room. Her lips moan like the rocking chair sway, I watched her world deteriorate day after day. Mother, mother, how did we end up here, wooden walls creaking, dementia growing near. Whispers ran through the town from door to door the night I knew I couldn't take anymore. Only a child, I felt the starving pain in my side, When she asked where was Papa it was then I lied, "He's coming home soon Mother, this I swear, she gave a joyous smile as she rocked in her chair." In a fit of anger I left her rocking there.... Ice melts, revealing secrets- wheel creaks Through dirty windows the spring sun peaks A state of denial upon the frozen face lies the story of the undercover living life of our purgatory Dads in a grave, Mother in hell, me... I'm doing well.