She Waits by the Window

She Waits by the Window

She waits where glass forgets the sun,

her face half lost in broken light,

a stillness stitched into the frame,

that leans into the edge of night.

I see her when the world goes thin,

a shape that does not blink or move,

just watching what she used to be,

from places I cannot remove.

The curtains shift though there is no wind,

as if she breathes through fabric torn,

and every shadow learns her name,

the way it learns that something’s wrong.

She does not speak, but I can hear,

a memory pressed against the pane,

like sorrow trapped inside a home,

that never learned to leave again.

Her fingers trace the fogged-up glass,

writing things I cannot read,

but still I feel the meaning sink,

like something planted as a seed.

I turn away but still she stays,

not bound to room or time or place,

a waiting carved into the air,

a presence no one can erase.

And when I look again at night,

the window shows her standing near,

as if she never left at all,

and I was always the one here.

#Marie381UkWrites #www #viral #poetrymagazines #facebook #twitter #instergrampoets #vocalmedia