But she's got eagle's eyes-
Each day, her accounting fingers
labelled, folded, parceled, incised
All her worldly possessions- clothes
Piled neatly by seasons
Shoes, boxed along with bags & hats,
Jewels--not for grievance--
She's a rose, darkly burnt, ashes
Smoldering of last fire
Her body hears death's baritone
Yet she's busy- here, there -
Photography by Ars Thanea
Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Emily's Not So Common Meter (Emily Dickinson), Hosted by Victoria C. Slotto
and Poets United - Acceptance
I have learned that my daughter in law's 89 year old grandmother has been giving away her things and properties, upon learning that she is in the last stage of cancer.
