I still waited at that window,
In my parents, now our home,
Like a giddy expectant schoolgirl,
As I did when we were young.
The window in the living room,
Beside the fireplace.
I could see his lights on the blacktop,
If I stood in the right space.
I never tired of watching for him,
He always came on time.
And I always knew which lights were his,
Because they caused my heart to chime.
Then illness overcame him,
And took our joy away.
And he'd be at the window,
Awaiting me at the end of the day.
Now David's been taken from me,
And I'll for the rest of my days,
Watch for him at the window,
Until my vigilence pays.
And when he finally comes for me,
In fifty years or ten,
I'll be watching at the window,
And I'll know which light is him.
Rachel
by
Kenny G
