She sits by the windowsill-
Lushness on her right and storms on the left
In trees she danced and in rain she wept.

She looks out the window-
Flashbacks to rejoices in the grass
Always had something on mind to ask.
When hands didn't matter and the sun was her clock
Was gleefully running and jumping through a flock.

She now looks inside-
In doubt of how this is her present
Where there's no sign of her beloved crescent.
How this paper lacks even a drop of ink
And the light fades in just a blink.

But when she's given a choice-
To choose between the calm and loud;
Her heaven will always lie in the dark cloud.


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