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-The Old Mill-

Up on a hill,

Was a lonely mill.

The mill grew older,

As the days passed by.

Broken old windows,

And creaking old doors.

And the ceiling was filled,

With webs and holes.

Such was the state,

Of the old old mill.

One fine morning,

As the day was dawning,

A man came along,

To look at the mill.

Next day came a tractor,

And a big bulldozer,

And down came the mill,

With a crash, on the hill.

A sight to be dreaded!

And that was the end,

Of the old old mill.

Image

-The Nameless Poet’s Note-

This poem was written on 27th September 2005.

It was published in the Times of India – Student’s Edition!

– \m/ Peace Out \m/ –

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