The mill
A #poem for a special day
in three parts

—

i.

Far away from here
is a faded wooden place
where I left my youth
in its waters’ rapid pace.

Stuck to the wood
of this abandoned water mill,
a yellowed paper calendar
clung with sticky will

to a time when it was new,
to the wall of weathered pine,
with a circle ’round the date
that was especially mine.