Where the Windmills Sang
written by: Simona Prilogan
I harvested my tales between the chestnut trees
Waltzing the winds of zest through castles of the green,
Amazed by summer’s warmth, caressed by its gentle breeze,
In search of harmony and mystic soft unseen.
I chanted songs of love in high forested hills,
Embracing chests of trees when playing hide-and-seek.
Echoing whispers, subtle, the old-fashioned windmills,
Unfolded Zephyr’s tunes in sparks of light’s mystique.
Alas, I loved those hills and valleys’ water streams,
The chirping of the birds, the smiles of flowers, shy.
Perhaps my innocence sparked over solar beams
Seeing them as unique beneath my childhood’s sky.
I look to catching now a glimpse of youth’s twilight,
The flawless horizon, the shape of a full moon,
Catching the stars, but wait, this moment of the night
It’s void of cool, bright stars; the wind has lost its tune.
At seasons’ gates embark a gloomy flashing town
Cemented in dark ash, rising its shards through clouds.
The air is growing thick with dust and smut around,
Gripping sore nature’s grief, setting the future’s shrouds.
Sleep not, my dear earth; I’m viewing my old-time
The freshness of the woods, the roots I once have sown,
The love you always gave, with them I pen my rhyme
Telling your truth again and what my heart has known.
- Where the Windmills Sang - March 6, 2025
- Zenith - November 22, 2024
- Poetic Stamps - July 31, 2024
