Windmill

In Holland's realm of endless skies,

Where waterways and windmills rise,

A picturesque scene from days of old,

A tale of history, yet to be told.

1925, a year of grace,

The Netherlands embraced its rightful place,

A windmill stood tall, its sails unfurled,

As the wind whispered secrets to the world.

On waters calm, reflections gleamed,

Capturing dreams where reality seemed,

A symphony of colors, vibrant and bold,

Painting a canvas of stories untold.

The windmill's silhouette against the sky,

A beacon of strength, standing high,

Harnessing the breeze, its power untamed,

Grinding the wheat, where dreams were framed.

In tulip fields, a rainbow parade,

Petals dancing, a serenade,

Underneath the mill's watchful gaze,

A tribute to nature's intricate ways.

Amidst the cobbled streets, quaint and neat,

Whispers of history echo, discreet,

The tales of courage, battles fought,

From the windmill's vantage point, they're caught.

The Dutch spirit, resilient and strong,

Fighting the tides when things went wrong,

With innovation and unwavering will,

They harnessed the wind, a triumph still.

1925, a chapter in time,

Where windmills and water intertwined,

The Netherlands, a portrait serene,

A testament to a nation's dream.

So let us remember, with heartfelt embrace,

The windmill's dance, its elegant grace,

And cherish the Netherlands, a land so fine,

Where history and beauty forever entwine.