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Days go by fassST
nights go by even-
sometimes in pure and high delight
other times in a shear
an quite perfect natural disaster,

I might be addicted to your arms
an disabled by those hidden charms
I can't hear no longer tbe warning alarms,

as long as I am beside you love
I know I can face tomorrow brave again

Ma Cherie © 2017
 Mar 2017 Saturday Jones
J Ames
Look past the grey hairs
That add a silver lining to your stare
And trace the lines on my face
Sometimes we aren't getting any older
We just warm up to the smolder
Sometimes this place feels misplaced

Sometimes we're dreaming together
With each other, whatever
Forever in ashes and grins
Then there's a pause in reaction
So go the laws of attraction
An eruption, of sorts, at wit's end

This feeling's a force of nature
Without nomenclature
We're melting in hot city rain
Hot as a tin roof
Dryer than vermouth
These are feelings we both entertain

Shaved by the metal of the red moonlight
Everybody's on the run on a doomsday night
Pompeii's for lovers, that's what we heard 'em say
Down at the end of Kilmartin Street
Where nobody seems to go,
A widow lives in an ancient mill
Where the river will overflow,
The mill race turns the mighty wheel
Though it grinds no wheat or corn,
It’s not been used as a working mill
Since before we both were born.

And the widow there is a mystery,
For we don’t know where she’s been,
She doesn’t give out her history
Though we know her name’s Christine,
She’s rarely seen in the street outside
But the gown she wears is black,
And those that visit and go inside
Are rarely seen to come back.

And I’ve watched myself, that paddle wheel,
It seems to go in reverse,
Whenever she has a visitor there
It’s as if the mill is cursed,
For then the water flows uphill
It’s against all laws, I know,
Whoever heard of the water going
Back to the overflow?

There’s a warning sign on the portico
And a warning sign within,
‘Don’t think to enter the Devil’s Mill
If your life is filled with sin,
For it may get rid of the things you want
And delete the good things too,
You may uncover a life within,
But of course, that’s up to you.’

I went one day to the portico
And beat on the old front door,
Then heard her footsteps begin to echo
Across the flagstone floor,
The door flung wide and she stood aside
And I walked into the mill,
But heard the grind of the wheel rewind
Outside, I can hear it still.

I felt my head beginning to spin
As I travelled back in time,
Undoing every single action
That once I’d thought were mine,
Then once outside, I stood and cried
For my world was not the same,
I’d lost my only love, my bride
And forgotten our baby’s name.

I thought I’d possibly get them back
If I went again to the mill,
And stood just cautiously inside
While the wheel went forward still,
But the widow blocked the door to me
And she said, ‘Don’t come again,
You only get but a single chance
Or the end result is pain.’

David Lewis Paget
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