She sits at her window and stares outside.
Her eyes cannot see.
Her eyes can only see
Visions of days in the
past.
She lives in the past
When
Long ago when she was young
She met a fine young man
Who smiled and held her hand,
Who ran with her through wooded paths,
Who held her close and whispered
Tender words into her ears.
She cannot hide her tears.
She could not hide her tears,
When
Long ago her happiness
Welled up deep inside;
Her tears she could not hide.
He asked her if she'd marry him.
They married in the church
And lived together thirty
years.
She cannot hide her tears,
As she recalls the years,
When |
Daily they sat at the table
And conversed over cups
of hot tea,
And evenings he sat in his favourite armchair,
Smoking his pipe and reading his paper,
And she sat and knitted -- maybe a sweater --
She never did finish it over the years.
Maybe she never had meant to.
Now she'll wake every morning alone in her bed
And stare at the pillow
that he used to sleep on,
And she will remember he's gone.
At breakfast she'll set him a place at the table,
And then she'll remember he's gone.
She'll sit at the table across from his chair.
She cannot believe that he's gone.
And evenings she'll turn to his favourite armchair,
And she will remember he's gone.
She cannot hide her tears.
They lived together for
so many years,
And now she is living alone.
So now at the window she sits, dressed in black,
And stares at the world
outside,
But her eyes can see only the vacuum he's left.
So she closes the album and cries. |