The window was closed on the top floor of that wooden A-frame set in the woods
But the curtains still fluttered,
perhaps it was muttered,
that someone had left that door ajar.
All of a sudden it was June,
the orange buoy in view,
where the kids like to swim out to sea.
And then in July,
the sky opened and cried
and it rained tears for days.
In late summer, mid-August,
a garden was plotted,
and carrots were dug in their new home.
September school was in session,
the red and oranges busting
from the towering Oak by the lake.
And when in October she came back,
to sit on that deck,
she noticed the window was broken,.
The curtains still fluttered,
the bedroom now cluttered
of memories that were now of times long gone.
She took off her dress,
her hair was a mess,
and laid the goodbye note by her shoes,
she smiled at the A-frame
and took one more look at the cracked pane
and then waded out to her sleep.
