What she’s doing there the whole day
Sitting in the same posture on a chair
By the window that brings in no wind
Nor any floral perfume
Though the window opens into a garden
That’s there without a reason
For endless time without a season
And keep you guessing if out there
It’s eternal summer or spring
And if it’s so the lady eternal
Why she isn’t in the garden
Instead of sitting the day out
In the same posture on the same chair
Static and timeless
In her expressionless face
That holds neither joy nor sadness.