The Windmill’s Silent Blades: A Testament to Work Done and Left Behind

The West wasn’t won by luck—it was carved by determination and hard work.

In the stillness, the windmill stands tall,

Rusty blades whisper stories long past,

A sentinel quiet, through summer squall,

Its echoes of toil in the memories cast.

Once it turned with a purpose profound,

Quenching the thirst of the sunburnt land,

But days moved on, lifes rhythm unwound,

Left behind, a monument where dreams once spanned.

Beneath the vastness of a cobalt sky,

A lone cowboy pauses, his heart feels the weight,

Each breath of the breeze sings of battles shy,

Of laughter and labor that time cannot sate.

As twilight descends, shadows start to blend,

The windmill gazes at stars starting to gleam,

A testament stands to the journeys that end,

Where work left behind fuels the wanderers dream.