Windmills Demise

Let me catch the withered windmill
surf the sails that never spin
catch the sunset in the morning
from the dream I never win
the churning chaff attacks the breeze
in a raging storm yet still
discarded husks by million
do they drink the bitter pill

Rejected wings that lay alone
pointed tips there see askew
beside the shattered millstone lie
to drown in the flour filled dew
and the broken windmill stands now
on a summers winter night
for to grind his mournful swansong
neath a sky for never bright