'the Windmiller's Guest'
'The Windmiller's Guest'
I faced him, with my back to love
Above the village street.
And, told him, 'No', that I thought of
Adventures less concrete.
This land ship held no hope for me
Of life beyond this place
And, with my answer I could see
The look upon his face.
His pipe he held unsatisfied,
Still, love his only view,
Like roses past their bloom had died
And lost their fragrant hue.
©deborah burch
3.19.2013
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