Death she is there calmly waiting her turn
A farmer's wife she rests upon the wall
Her scythe still holds a piece of wheat
Her hands worn from the day
Death she catches some sun
A mature woman she in no hurry at all
She is just there
No rush
I can live with that
Mar 6, 2020
Mar 6, 2020 at 9:07 PM UTC
Death she is there calmly waiting her turn
A farmer's wife she rests upon the wall
Her scythe still holds a piece of wheat
Her hands worn from the day
Death she catches some sun
A mature woman she in no hurry at all
She is just there
No rush
I can live with that