THE REST

Every afternoon he was coming there to rest after the hard work in the fields.
He sat under my leaves, crossed his arms and enjoyed the last sun rays with a smile of bliss.
The deep lines on his faced showed the hard life he had. I think he was quite old.
One time he sat longer.
The night came but he still was there with his smile on his face.
He looked asleep. He was dead.

(The Olive Tree Tales)