Mill Wheel
The mill wheel would not turn until the spring,
the ice, springtime, thawing, now showing bling.
The mill, now in motion, mill pond, full spate!
Hark, the grinders grind flour for bread, can't wait.
Fickle the weather, the water freezes,
hard frost, the mill and pond, motion ceases!
What grain was ground, sold, fresh bread, cakes baking!
Rumour has it, the mill, now old, shaking.
Whispers ran through the town from door to door,
their mill, it's state, condition, bad, yes poor!
The bank was made aware and did declare,
with help, it would contribute, help repair.
All helped, a vast sum did accrue, delight!
Work started twenty-four hours, day and night.
Ice melts revealing secrets, the wheel creaks.
Across pond, two otters swam, leaving streaks.
The wheel was stopped, for one whole year, no bread.
To the delight of all, the otters bred.
Soon left, the wheel, their home, fixed, mill started!
Fesh ground flour to all homes was carted!
One, nine, sixteen v3.0 Poetry Contest - Sponsored by Viv Wigley
6/25/18
Copyright © Mick Talbot | Year Posted 2018
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