The Face of Death
Death is not a hooded skeleton
with empty eye-sockets
as the priests tell us to frighten us
but a large, roly-poly woman with
an opulent bosom and welcoming arms.
with empty eye-sockets
as the priests tell us to frighten us
but a large, roly-poly woman with
an opulent bosom and welcoming arms.
At times I have been so close to her
that I have caught her scent of
freshly-laundered clothing.
that I have caught her scent of
freshly-laundered clothing.
- - - Isabel Allende