She sits at the window

Watching life unfold before her eyes

The seasons come and then go

As the hope within slowly dies.

~

The burden she has carried

For so many long, long years

Ensures that affection will not tarry

Love shall never be given here.

~

Never good enough for long lasting

She sits and watches through the tears

As she counts the years now passing

She will remain at the window, right here.

~

Weaver of dreams in the night

Wisher of silent yearnings

Hopeful that the right one just might

Look up and set her heart singing.

~

Yet the song remains unsung

The dreams lie in tatters

For all hope is at last done

In all her life she never mattered.

~

And she sits at the window. . .

~m spohn