Tree

Sitting there, staring out the window, I notice the rain that follows the widow. She starts walking inside the house, wearing that dreadful blouse. I float downstairs and hear her cry, “My love! My sweet love! Oh where have you gone? ” I tap her shoulder, my hands going right through her. “Forever I miss my dear.” I whisper. The widow stood up and walked to the window, To see me, by the tree, that welcomed her to the sorrow. I wave one last time Now it’s time to bid one last goodbye. I disappear and float away “I’ll sit here in despair, ” she will say. “And never forget the tree, that murdered my dearly beloved.”