as the wind brushes her hair,
she sits there and stares ahead,
unaware of the rain clouds above,
she sits there and she waits.
a week goes by,
and every day it's the same,
by the lake she sits alone,
a picture stuck in its frame.
she gives up after a time,
she stands up and walks away,
she doesn't know where she's going,
but promises she'll be back someday.
No comments:
Post a Comment