The weeds have grown to the sky more,
their feet embedded- I wonder
if they will come through the carpet
And the birds still click their rhythm,
sitting on the washing line
the rain still washing my clothes
The clouds are still circling around
in the sky- in my head.
Turning my vision grey
when I stare too long,
The spider's web still hangs in thread
frayed and dismantled-
I wonder when she will come back.