October 4, 2009

Everytime I Looked at The Window

Everytime I looked at the window, I always hope that you were there.
Standing outside my house.
I remember when you stand there, waiting to pick me up.


When i'm asked you, "would you like to come in?"
You always said, "no thanks. I'm fine here."

I can't forget that, dear. I miss that day, really.

No comments:

Post a Comment