pale as a whispered winter wind
she sat in the amber glow of the streetlight
with her cascading delicate blonde hair disheveled
her blue eyes distant
gaze out the window to the fierce winter night
between theatrical sobs spins out the tale
of her sorrows
pointing with a trembling hand at the
windswept streets
the story of a perfect love frail but pure
the story of beautiful ways and warm embraces
but along the way she had lost him
and all track of her intimate dreams
now she paints seascapes grey and foreboding
now she sketches raindrops on a summer day