‎90 years old

tired and weary, grown and grey.

when will she see the light of day.
dark and dingy, cold she lay
in the frigid winter of day.

... A little ray of hope say what she pray
'Till this passing storm goes away.
Looking back to the joys of yesterday
Somewhat eases the blues astray.

her treasures in a jar of clay

beyond reach, so far away.
the little black witch guffaws with gay
as she sees her victim that way.

For a while the sun showed its ray

A bit of strength it gave today.
But will it last until May?
As she toils to gather the wheat in the hay.

... Pain shattered her in disarray,
Willed to spend strength anyway.
Love in the heart that is making her obey.
Endure the hurt and the hardships whithering her away.