Seat at the Window

there sat a little girl

sitting by her window

looking at the world

she couldn't see a lot

for the window was too small

she loved to sit by her window

all through the day

she'd stay there forever

if she could only have her way.

She watched the busy people

walking down the street

oh, how wonderful it must be,

she often thought discreet

she saw the birds sing

their song in the morning light

and watched for them to come home,

as day fell into night.

Flowers , flowers, everywhere

what a pretty sight to see,

if I were a flower

I wonder which one, I'd be.

Sometimes when it rained

the little girl would cry,

because she was afraid,

afraid that she might die

she'd dream at night

of playing in her yard,

touching all the flowers

watching all the cars,

yet, she knew deep inside

that would never be,

because she had an illness

she could never quite be free.

Though many things

made her sad,

if she thought too long

her sadness would make her mad,

the world was such a pretty place

yet no one seems to care,

no one taking the time

to look up at her,

her and her tearful stare.

The flowers all in bloom

yet no one seems to see,

all the different colors

there are in each and every tree,

each blade of grass is different

no two are the same,

but no one stops to notice

it's really quite a shame.

The window is empty

only a half pulled shade,

where is the little girl

where is she today,

the flowers are all open

and the grass is standing still,

wondering why their friend

isn't at the window sill.

Days go by or maybe months

yet nothing seems to change,

the paint hat happened long ago

is really quite the same,

walking by the closed door

her hands begin to shake,

the thought of her little girl

is more than she can take,

she slowly opens the door

and walks inside the room,

there's a beautiful sunbeam

taking away the gloom.

She walks over to the window

and quietly sits down,

a single tear drops as she

looks below at the ground,

though all the flowers

are in bloom, one catches her eye,

it's the tallest one of all

and somehow seems more alive.

All the others point,

and the grass falls in behind,

as though they're playing

follow the leader or

another children's rhyme.

She misses her daughter greatly

but she can somehow see,

how her daughter

had somehow let go...

only to be free.

Flowers, flowers, everywhere

what a pretty sight to see...

if I were a flower,

I wonder which one I'd be.

Reviews

[We are young.]

wow so very absorbing, and beautiful, yet sad.

[Butterflymom]

This is both sad and beautiful. Emotional, descriptive, and I enjoyed the imagery. Your writing always seems to be a surprise...creative, fresh and original.