The Old Mill

It's a proud shell, grand
   timbers clothed in old tin.
  A clamoring of roof angles
  lost doors and steel bracing.

So stands the old mill
  haunting and haunted.
  a monument to past industry,
  a remnant of past hope.

They're gutting it now
  ants with tools,
  packing and stacking
  the last century away.

Mourning masses
  motor on by - and,
  The progress parade
  marches on.

jeyler 2006