In a village somewhere near Mexico with an old house and a garden a woman lays her head down on a pillow made of feathers and old potato sacks she closes her eyes and pictures the angels that will be coming for her soon on a warm spring day eighty five years ago she was born on the fifth of June to a farm boy and a city girl raised in the same little village where she remains today Her blue eyes have seen many things things that could make you cry and things that could make you smile marriage, children, grandchildren and the death of the man she had grown old with each day her courage and will to live slowly fades and it’s getting harder for her to go on Every night when she closes her eyes a bright shining star twinkles in her presence the angels prepare to fly down spring is near the fresh sweet scent of flowers fill the air and the silence of the little house is almost deafening through out the night the old woman who lives in the village lies her head down on a pillow made of feathers and old potato sacks closes her eyes and sleeps with the rising sun the rooster crows all is silent in the room the old woman sleeps peacefully in her bed and the old man she grew old with lies next to her hand and hand together forever they remain in the old village somewhere near Heaven
Reason for writing:
my great gram ma ma
Birth sign: Aries
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