Windmill Dreams

Windmill Dreams

As the sun fades, it signals the day's end,
And in its wake, a windmill stands tall,
Its blades twirling, in a warm dusty wind,
Beauty in spaces, a sight to enthrall.
The sky ablaze with hues of red and gold,
A canvas painted by nature's own hand,
A spectacle, a story to be told,
A masterpiece only the god's command.
But in this scene, my imagination soars,
With every gust, dreams take flight and ignite.
A symbol of hope, burning ever bright.
Oh, beauty above, fire in the sky,
The wind whispers tales, on wings I fly.
The windmill spins, a dance against the sky.
In its graceful twirls, secrets untold,
A whisper of dreams, stories yet unfold.
As the sun sets and darkness takes its hold,
The windmill's silhouette stands strong,
Blades, like wings, embrace the twilight sky,
Carrying wishes on a gentle sigh.

                   D. Lawrence Elliott