The Old Mill House Poem by Marilyn Shepperson

The river now runs slowly, where once it raced
Past the old mill house, surrounded by a white fence
Trying desperately to turn the large wheel
As it did in days gone by
The wood of the wheel is rotten with age
It will never turn again, no matter how hard the river tries
No longer is there any glass in the windows
And the door will not open nor shut
It stays stuck in one position
That is just large enough
To let children slip in, one at a time
Against all parental advice
To play among the rusty cogs
Scaring families of mice
Whose ancestors first moved in
When the mill was new and ground the grain
From many villages around it; important then
The villages are no longer there
Having grown together to form a town
But this one village remains,
Protected by an ancient charter
It's land cannot be built upon, now or ever
So ducks still waddle across the green
And geese try to lord it on the farm
The rooks give noisy greetings to
The sunset and the dawn
While in summer, you can watch
Swallows ans swifts dart along and across
The old mill house's river.