The windmill...

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is about something in my life that means alot to me.

Submitted: October 17, 2011

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Submitted: October 17, 2011

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The windmill in my yard has always made a eary sound when the wend blows. Looking down on me from 30 feet, standing on its rickidy rotted legs. It reminds me of every thing i've ever let pass me by. All the people i let walk away. How oh so usefull but unusefull i have been. I cringe at that sound. That horrible sound. But I've always loved to climb its shakey rotten latter. Let it control when to let its board break and drop me to the ground. But it's been nothing but trustworthy so far. Maybe someday the  wind will break us together. Send us crashing to the ground. Or maybe it will support me as i've always supported it. I love that windmill. I stand with it towering over me... Me and you arent so different windmill, i think. Not so different at all.


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