Where Did You Go?

The mill turns round…
A season goes by.
Where are these people who are leaving us going?
Where do they go,
when sunset overtakes day,
and a life being joyfully lived
suddenly ends?

The mill turns round…
A season crawls by
one day at a time.
The sun still rises and sets
each and every turn of the globe.
The buttercups come and go
but there’s no one to bring in the crops.
“She’s on the other side now.”

The mill turns round…
A season of grain for grist
and you will be missed
when one season leads to another
and into a year, then two.
Here we go,
carrying on without you.

The mill turns round…
Twelve seasons go by.
Or is it counted in years now,
this time without you?
I can’t quite recall,
but I recognize your warmth of friendship
in every ray of sun
that shines through my temples,
and hopefully, that’s all I need
to feel at one with you
for all time.

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