She was sitting on her windowsill,

looking at the tree's.

She was sitting on the windowsill,

with her hands between her knee's.

Her mind was at the edge of nowhere,

waiting to be seen.

But nobody came to look for her,

not the clouds, nor the tree's.

Her feet were braced right at the edge,

no longer anyplace to flee.

She was sitting on her windowsill,

thinking how soft the ground looked

way up with the tree's.

Downwards she tumbled,

now she was seen.

She is sitting at her windowsill,

floating with the birds and the bee's.