fading of hope

i rested myself on the chair,
on the patio of my old house,
gazing at the ruins of the mill,
looming large across the hill,

the memories of those days,
spent in heat, gathering sweat,
seem distant as dust settles,
on the past, i cannot forget,

town stands abandoned now,
young having left long ago,
only the old bereft of hope,
laze around awaiting death,

as the day crumbles to dusk,
and hope crushes to despair,
forcing you to grimly contend,
every beginning has an end.