She sat in the window,

In her silent home,

A recent widow,

She now sits alone,

Though his scent still lingers,

His voice a constant echo,

She counts the months on her fingers,

She can’t seem to let go,

His pictures remain on the wall,

His art still hung high,

Tragic he didn’t survive the fall,

I guess not all angels can fly,

She sits in the window, day in day out,

So many things she’s never said,

Inside she wants to scream and shout,

Will she ever make amends?