11 August 2012
A small and frail woman,
Walking up my stairs,
Must have never seen the sun,
And the clothes that she wears,
Skin as fresh as daisies,
Eyes as black as death,
I think I know what she sees,
I think her name was Beth,
She owned this house before,
Loved it like her children,
Selling it her heart tore,
But that was well, when,
When she had her debt,
A debt of her life,
And how she had wept,
Being her husbands wife,
She did one last thing,
Before she had to pay,
A treasure to win,
I found it a year to this day.
Debt • Opuss № I