She stands at the window staring gray,
Thoughts into the rain
Waiting, eager for what may never come
It's plain
That she's a restless wanderer
On the train
Of her thoughts.
Tomorrow is always a better time
If she could wait
Without the fear that whispers soft
"Too late, too late."
But hers was never the patient road
And endless plain
Waiting, perched on the edge of her soul
For the freedom train
Waiting, for what may never come -
Again and again..........
Forever.
