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The Window Watcher
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January - June 2007 Day after day, she sits there alone,
Ignoring the calls on her cellular phone,
She's waiting, you see, for her lover long-gone,
He went out for some Mayfair and she never clicked on.
She remembers his smell, remembers it well,
As she never washes her clothes,
Her hair's everywhere, and I really don't care
to wonder if she clips the nails on her toes.
"I pray he's back soon,
On a hot summer's noon,
We'll eat cake from a fine China plate".
I hope she's not wrong,
But sadly I think,
That she's in for a pretty long wait.
