She stood before the window panes
Her looks conversed to the closed gate
The small house remained very lonely.
She glanced to the shining sun
Smiled at the gently moving leaves outside
Her grey eyes stared with hopes
Who comes to meet me in the evening
Her feather like hairs proved the distress
Sagged cheeks the growing weakness
But the sparks in eyes light the expectations
She turned with great sighs from inside
Calm and cold walls absorbed that air
Bread on the table freeze like her fingers
Touched a piece she forgets taste.