My words...

THE YEARNING

She was standing at the door,

Staring at the empty pathway;

Through the cracking glass she wore;

Hoping he would come this day.

Her body was tired and weak.

She couldn't carry her fragile bone.

She still made his favorite steak;

Hoping, today she wouldn't eat alone.

Every time a car passed by,

She walked to the door quick;

Hoping it would enter the high

Gates of that old wrecked brick.

And every time it did not,

She looked up, with painful dismay,

at the clock and wishfully thought,

Its not the end of day.

The pendulum went to and fro.

She saw the steak turning cold.

But her son did not show,

Like he had promised and told.

The sun was no more.

It was the end of day.

She was still at the door,

Staring at the empty pathway...

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