The Horse Chestnut, August 22, 2010

Where is the girl who gazed at me 

from the attic window?

For decades I watched and waited 

for her return. 

I listened for her whispered prayers,

but heard only the silence 

of long winters and muted springs.

Where is the girl who gazed in shadow

and reached to touch through shaded glass?

Now others stand at the window.

Their curious eyes watch and wonder 

at my secrets.

I wait, but the girl with dark eyes 

does not come.

She promised to return 

when the world unclenched 

its wounded fist,

when peace and tranquility 

reclaimed their rightful place.

Season after season, I have waited, 

but she has not come back.

Now my leaves are brown, even in spring,

The blood in my veins has grown dark and dry.

You who stand at the attic window, 

will you tell her that I waited?

Will you tell her that I waited and stood witness?

There was a girl with dark brown eyes 

and brown hair. 

My laden arms ached to shelter her 

but I could not.  

Yet, she loved me. 

She loved my tender blossoms, and did not fault me

when bitter winds howled  through winter  branches. 

Think not of all the misery 

but of the beauty that remains, she whispered.

He who has courage and faith 

will never perish in misery, she promised.

You who still stand at the window,

tell her that I waited

and remember.