She sits near the window,
Reading Her book.
She only takes a glance
and has had enough.
She puts the book down
and goes away
to make Her fourth coffee,
for the day.

The coffee is like nectar.
Bliss for Her tongue.
The steam mists Her glasses
as She takes a sip.
Takes Her mind off things.
She takes the knife,
to cut the loaf of bread.
What a life.

As She makes Her lunch,
Her mind wanders,
to libraries and poetry
and art and music.
And to what could have been,
if he hadn't left.
Where would She be?
Not here or there.

She puts down Her coffee
and goes back to Her book,
Along came Her cat,
purring away.
At least She had her
to save Her from madness.
The madness you get
from this sadness.

She sits near the window,
Reading Her book.
She absorbs Herself in this story.
Nothing to disturb Her
from this magical world.
Life can't get Her there.
She's free from thought
and has no care.