The Windmill In My Mind
M
Mario, Lucien, Rene Odekerken
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The blades turn, slow at first,
slicing through the quiet,
memories rise like dust in the air,
caught in the endless motion.
A childhood afternoon, golden and warm,
laughter echoing between wooden beams.
Then a voice, sharp as a blade-
gone before I can hold it.
The wind shifts, and so do the thoughts.
Spinning faster,
faster,
until past and present blur.
I reach out,
but the wind takes everything away,
leaving only the hum of turning gears,
the whisper of time moving on.
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