As she sat upon her windowsill she watched the cars roll by and the nervous man linger along the grass just beyond the sidewalks end. She had hoped that one day she would work up the courageous to be someone in a busy city with dreams and deadlines to be met. She hoped that she wouldn’t be who she was becoming for she returned to darkness at night with nothing but an unfinished book and withering flowers to welcome her home. She would sit upon the windowsill to make sense of the man who paced the streets at night and the cars who rushed by in a hurry to be somewhere. She wanted to be a newly planted flower in a field full of seeds. She wanted to have a purpose other than sitting upon that windowsill. She told herself she would but she wished someone would tell her that she could