English Shayari

The old mill long had closed its doorsthe rotting wheel would turn no moreno grain to grind, no country storeswhere old men sat, told stories, swore…
And rocks that formed the waterfallbecame the playground for us allon summer days, it beckoned, calledbeneath the old mill’s rotting walls….
The chill of water, mountain-fedawakened spirits, long since deadwhere millers’ children once were fedon banks upon which lovers wed.
And yet i hear the echoes stillwhere laughter of the children filledthose rotting walls upon the hill‘twas once the home to Freeman’s Mill….
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