The Old Mill
written by: Polly Oliver
The shadows are lengthening
And with this, comes a dampening
In the breeze that’s now sliding
Down the dusk-flanked hill.
Above our kisses, trees whisper
The wood’s warning that crepuscular
Trysting calls forth danger
I see goose-pimples springing
On your freckled arms, wrapping
My passion, that’s cooling
With this darkening chill.
Gold-green which had shone on our embraces
No more dapples our now watchful faces
From the old path’s bends it races
And in the gloaming grows a thrill-
Of dread at what could now be coming
With the darkness that is thickening
Between us… and what’s listening,
In the tumbledown mill.
Your head flicks right, to footsteps unseen.
Oh my love! We start to a hidden scream.
Or laughter? We’re frozen, as those in a bad dream
Only dreams cannot kill…
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