The Girl

I see her sometimes, When the cold autumn air, Causes blinds to be pulled down, and fires to be lit. She sits in a chair, That is no longer there. I watch her while she sits. Her dress is of the palest blue, Forget-me-nots Embroidered on the sleeves. She knows I watch her, and she does not care, But if I try to speak to her, she leaves. Sometimes she sits contentedly, Other times she cries. I would love to know the story, Of her life, and her demise.