My Wheel
MY WHEEL
The Mill wheel wouldn’t turn until the Spring,
would wait for the bright days when birds would sing.
In deep winter people saw the door closed,
snow turned to ice on the wooden steps old.
None saw footprints on them a long while now,
not a glint of light behind iced window.
The millman disappeared in misty air,
his neighbor’s young wife wasn’t seen anywhere.
Whispers ran through the town from door to door
with words carried on mill wheel of rumor
that this man had a clandestine affair
with this lady, he ran away with her.
When mist cleared, spring came floating in the air
this man returned from cold with his sister.
The sun shines, silence of winter he breaks.
Ice melts, revealing secrets - the wheel creaks.
June 26, 2018
My lines are of 10 syllables each
(Checked on howanysyllables.com)
Copyright © Subimal Sinha-Roy | Year Posted 2018
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