she gathers them up holding them gently in her arms there are more every day like harvesting flowers pick them when they are in full bloom she walks barefoot in the fields in a powder blue dress big floppy hat to keep off the sun she gathers them up and brings them to the boatman at the river he gives her one of the four coins he collects for each one he ferry's across to the gates... the gates.... one bright with golden promise the other dark and cold... she hates the sight of the gates.... she wants her flowers to stay the way they are forever she walks the battlefield that night gathering up the fallen soldiers she is death come to harvest the late bloom come to gather the souls for the ferry man across to the gates of forevermore