a woman lost her husband at sea.
she sits alone at the window by candle light...waiting, and hoping.
she has terrifying dreams....or are they dreams at all?
Still at the Window Sill
A candle burns on the window sill.
The memory holds, the old feelings still.
At night she holds, the fire tight.
Starring out into the moonlight.
And she thinks the wind, called out her name.
At the edge of her bed is a man with a cane.
As he opened his mouth, and called out her name.
She awoke in her bed, each night the same.
And the chill in the air came from no where.
It blew through the room, and through her hair.
She felt his arms, but she could not see.
And the eyes in the dark wont let her be.