She sat so peacefully
her hair slowly moving in the breeze
framing her face, so lost in thought

her pen writes words with such speed
you think they were her last
but the story had yet to be completed

At a table for one
so comfortable in her writing
and what ever world she was creating

Finally after the war in my mind was lost
and forever hung in the air on a scale
forever loving, or forever missing

I walked up
and said "Hi, may I sit?"