Description
A woman with black hair, lost in her gaze,
Sits on the window sill, amidst the haze.
In a long black dress, she contemplates,
Through the worn window, her mind migrates.
Vines creep inside, a tangle of green,
Nature's embrace in this crumbling scene.
Paint peeling off, walls whispering tales,
She sits in stillness, as time unveils.
Her black hair cascades, a midnight veil,
Concealing thoughts that words can't unveil.
Sitting on the sill, she seeks solace,
In the worn window, a world's promise.
The dilapidated house, her silent retreat,
Where shadows and memories softly meet.
With each passing moment, she finds her place,
Amidst the decay, a tranquil grace.
The vines that surround, a symbol of growth,
Amidst the broken walls, a story of both.
She stares into distance, her spirit alive,
Finding beauty in ruins, where dreams survive.
In her black dress, she embodies strength,
A quiet resilience, a journey's length.
The window frames her, a portal to escape,
A glimpse of hope, a solace to drape.
In the dilapidated house, she finds her voice,
A woman of mystery, making her choice.
Sitting on the window sill, she's not confined,
In her solitude, she seeks what's left behind.