The mill.

The mill on the hill sat still

No rustle of wind blew it into movemnt 

And still there was one who sat below it 

Hoping for any signs of life 

She sat and he sat icolted form all others 

Her life was lonely but she had never felt connection 

As the mill was all that she had.

It was all that they loved.

All that she cherished 

All that consumed her waking hours.

But it was dead.

She would never see the turning of its blades through the coll clean mountain air 

No note of life would ever be audible form the blades of his creation 

It was all that she had.

And it was gone