She sits by the window, the rain softly falls,
Each droplet a whisper, each echo, a call.
Her eyes, like the glass, are clouded and gray,
Searching for pieces of yesterday.
The garden once bloomed where the puddles now lie,
Roses and laughter beneath a blue sky.
But the colors have faded, the scents drift away,
Lost in the haze of her mind’s disarray.
She traces the pane with a trembling hand,
Memories slipping like grains of sand.
Faces and voices flicker, then fade,
A lifetime of treasures in shadow laid.
The rain sings a song, both tender and cold,
A melody woven of stories untold.
She hums along softly, though words are unclear,
A fragment of joy still lingers near.
Though the rain keeps falling, the clouds may part,
A spark of light dances deep in her heart.
For even in darkness, a glimmer remains,
A love that endures through the sorrow and pain.
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