I sigh and place my paintbrush in the jar of murky water Great Aunt Raven's garden is dead and dreary The bushes are covered in prickly thorns The only flowers are those on my paper I was just about to start the roses I complain What is it this time
Great Aunt Raven holds a gold pocket watch in her pale hand Its thin metal chain sparkles against her long black skirt She checks the time and snaps the cover shut
We're late she says Follow me Her heels click click click against the stone I don't ask again Great Aunt Raven's odd jobs are always a surprise
