Mill Wheel
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The Mill wheel wouldn't turn until the spring,
the workers loaded up all their belongs;
and left for town and to their families,
soon the Mill was quiet with only mice.
The winter wind was now blowing snowflakes,
ice was forming on the roof and windows;
then, a soft scraping of the aged Mill door,
and a homeless group came in with the snow.
Whispers ran through the town from door to door,
that the Mill was haunted by ghost shadows;
trappers had seen movement around the Mill,
but when they would enter there was nothing.
No sound except scurrying of a mice . . .
or was it mice that ran away to hide?
When winter came to an end the group left.
Ice melts revealing secrets- the wheel creaks,
as workers return to the Mill in spring;
and they find signs that people have been there,
had lived there all that long freezing winter . . .
for on the wood floor lay a child's rag doll.
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July 6, 2018
Poetry/Narrative/Ghosts At the Mill
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1038-717-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2018
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