CCC#67
Sloping smock, no longer bright
Timbers faded, and reduced in height
Your sails and cap now a thing of lore
Wind shall not drive your gears anymore
Solemn witness of the passing of time
Gone the gentle sweep of your turning sublime
Crimson’s Creative Challenge #67
Padre
Padre's Ramblings 
Thank you, Padre, you did the old mill proud. And I wonder if you recognised it, since I know you do on occasion visit Yarmouth. It sits to the right of the A47 heading into town… though it required a 6 mile round hike for me to reach it.
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I do think I may have seen it
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I’d be surprised if you hadn’t. Driving with your eyes closed?
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There’s something sad about a mill passing, deteriorating. Your poem captures that, made me think of my uncle’s old windmill by the stock pond, it and the pond now overgrown with weeds, the uncle and his stock passed.
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