Crushed

In my remote village a long time ago From town came a man of twenty or so Set up a smart machine called gristmill Times have changed but it’s there still. Every weekend I had to go there to share A duty that for me became a routine affair Take a bagful of fresh wheat grain to grind In the mill that produced flour so refined. The sound of the crusher was harsh incessant The attitude of the man was equally indecent For he made me wait a long while for my turn The unseemly reason I could never discern. Despite this touch of forced discomfort My weekly tryst with the gristmill was of worth For the floating aroma of freshly ground wheat Dipped me in cool scent of corn field in summer heat. When I’m crumbled now under the time’s wheel I see me standing before the village gristmill In the midst of cacophony and grinding strife I can still smell the scent of the crushed life. Posted : June 3, 2018 June 18, 2020 Contest : Crushed Sponsor : Anthony Biaanco