The Art of a Woman
In the valley of despair life starts at early dawn
Silver rivulets from last night's dew cover the grass
A red sunrise promises a day that will be warming
Slowly the women rise from under the covers on the ground
Which remain warm from their body's heat and vivid dreams
A longing for a day that promises a reward for living
Leaves them all breathing a heavy sigh
Bent backs, sad brows, hair streaked with gray
Performing routine tasks with expert timing
Slowly like sand in an hourglass time churns on
Month turn into years, and years into eternities
Only when the Master calls the receipt is paid in full
Left behind the empty shell of a onetime being
Who has fulfilled her task in the timeless annals of history
poem by Ingeborg von Finsterwalde
Added by Poetry Lover
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