That Window

There she goes again
Looking out that same old window
The grime now encrusting its sill
Dirty fingerprints peppering its pane
There she goes again
Crying at what she lost
So she looks out that window
Expecting him to appear
As if he’d be strolling down the street
and He’d give a friendly wave
As if everything was going to be ok again.
It’s not the nature she stares at
Or the misty fog settling over the hilltops
Or the subtle tint of sunlight on the delicate leaves
Staring without a purpose
The trees have been stripped of their lavish leaves
The sparrows, they don’t sing anymore
The grass is dry and it crackles beneath your feet
But, still,  she stares out that window
Praying for time to stop
So she doesn’t have to do this anymore
Distant sounds of bombs crashing
People screaming
Fire crackling
Gunshots ricocheting off of nothing
Buzzing around her like swarms
But still,
She stares out that window.
The ghosts of old memories
Fog around that window
Fogging up those old glasses
That she hasn’t removed since he left.
Same old creaky chair.
Same old scarf that she’s been knitting for years.
Same old scuffed up shoes on the carpet
But still, she stares out that window
Waiting for his return.....