The windmill reached toward the sky,
Its blades turned fast around.
Water pumped for all to drink,
From deep within the ground.
The tower stood in classic form
While tested by the years.
A witness to life passing by,
Of all the happiness and tears..
The weathered boards had seen some wear.
The tin blades had long since browned,
The water was still cold and clean,
Flowing through rusty pipe stuck in the ground.
The windmill\'s time has come and gone,
And it\'s importance can\'t be denied.
It\'s silhouette stands tall against the sun.
Like a sentry filled with pride.
When settlers first stood up the tower,
For all around to see.
They knew without this water source,
Some things would never be.
(c) 2017 Edward York