The End.

From her weak breath.

Comes the odour of death.

Her skin coloured grey.

The sun does shine but for sure she won't be making nutritious hay.

She can barely stand.

I hold her arthritised and pained hand.

Her eyes cataract and empty.

Her body pains plenty.

She looks up to the sky.

And her empty eyes start to cry.

She mumbles some words.

As she points at the sky flying birds.

She knows her time is soon.

She is fed up with being fed liquid food by someone with a spoon.

I put her back in her bed.

Next day i hear she is dead.