By a rushing river, where the water sang a bubbly song, stood an old water mill. Its big wooden wheel, slick with green moss, turned round and round, splash, splash, splash! It never seemed to get tired.

Inside lived a kind miller and his cheerful wife. Every day, the miller would pour golden grains into the top, and the giant millstones, turned by the water wheel, would rumble and grumble as they ground the grain into soft, white flour. It looked like a gentle snowfall inside the mill, even on a sunny day!

The miller and his wife worked hard, but they were happy. They listened to the river gurgle and the wheel creak, and it was like music to them. The wife would hum along as she swept the floury dust, and the miller would whistle as he tied up the sacks.

The mill wasn't just grinding grain, oh no! It seemed to be grinding the days and the years too. Spring would come, and the river would swell with melted snow, making the wheel turn faster. Summer would arrive, and children would play by the riverbank, their laughter mixing with the mill’s steady rhythm. Autumn leaves would float by, red and gold, and winter would sometimes freeze the edges of the river, but the strong current usually kept the wheel turning.

Soon, little giggles and the patter of tiny feet filled the mill house. The miller and his wife had children! The children grew up listening to the same river songs and the same rumbles of the millstones. They played hide-and-seek among the flour sacks and helped their parents in small ways.

Time, like the river, kept flowing. The children grew tall, learned all about the mill, and then, one by one, they went off to find their own adventures in the world, just like little boats sailing down the river.

The miller’s beard grew white as the flour, and his wife’s smile had tiny, happy wrinkles around it. They moved a little slower, but they still loved their mill. They would sit by the window in the evenings, watching the wheel turn and remembering all the years that had spun by with it. They were content. They had their work, their memories, and the constant song of the river and the mill.

One day, the miller and his wife were very, very old, and they quietly went to sleep and didn't wake up. The mill house became quiet for a little while.

But the river kept flowing. And the big wooden wheel? It kept turning, splash, splash, splash. Soon, new people came to live in the mill. They learned to listen to its rumbles and the river's song. The mill went on grinding, for new families, new grains, and new days to come. It remembered the kind miller and his wife, and it kept their story turning with its wheel, forever and ever.

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