The Old Lady
The house is empty except for the old lady sitting in the chair next to the window. The eyes of the old lady are not here and what she sees are echoes of the past by running backyard. The old lady can hear the echo of the far laughs of children; their children do not come visit it for a long time. The balance sheet is covered with weeds and she sees him swing alone, his granddaughter is far, far away. The dolls gather dust on the bookshelf, their girls have long exchanged by the children of truth. The ball is wilting in the middle gantry of roses; your boys have no more time for games. The network at your side is empty, her husband died twenty years ago. The old lady is alone. The old lady looks much for the clock; she hoped that I reached soon.
Who am I?
You will also discover;
Death