She had always loved
the hard slog of gardening;
so digging the 'long trench'
had not been too much for her sixty years.
Now resting on her shovel,
she stared up at the back of her house.
Focuses her worried eyes
on the only window
with the closed curtains.
The old carpet in the shed...
would do nicely.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem