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SHE SAT BY THE WINDOW

“Diary, … Grief has a voice that no one hears, yet its whispers linger in the depths of our eyes.”

She sat by the window, serene yet pained,

Her silken gown with moonlight stained.

A thread unraveled, caught mid-air,

As shadows wove through her auburn hair.

Her sapphire gaze, deep and wide,

Held secrets only stars confide.

A single tear refused to fall,

A silent sentinel through it all.

“Forgive me,” she whispered, soft and clear,

“To the winds that carry my lingering fear.

Forgive the sorrow I did not choose,

Forgive the hope I dared to lose.

For in the depths of night, I grieve,

A thousand truths I ca

I mourn not him, but dreams betrayed,

A fragile life that could not stay.

I sought his voice, his steady hand,

But he walks now in another land.

Was it my heart, too proud, too still,

That let the echoes break my will?

Oh heavens, vast, unyielding, cold,

Do you mock my tears with tales untold?

Do you scatter dreams like brittle glass,

Leaving splinters where love might pass?

I wear no shame, though grief is mine,

It shapes my soul, its aching shrine.

I do not weep for what is gone,

But for the silence, now withdrawn.

For his absence carves a sacred space,

A quiet, hallowed, timeless grace.

No blame, no anger, no regret,

But a love unspoken, quietly met.”

The dawn crept in with gentle light,

Its golden hues dispelling night.

And though her sorrow did not fade,

Her spirit stood, unbent, unfrayed.

For honour lies in bearing pain,

With dignity that does not wane.

And through her tears, the world could see,

The strength of her eternity.