The second floor was empty;
By the window it was cool.
A woman’s tears would gather;
On the sill, to make a pool.
She checked the harbor daily;
For the ship her son had called his home;
But she walked back downstairs sadly;
Left in the dank house all alone.
Her knees they never buckled.
Her faith it never waived.
As she peered through that open shutter;
Day after lonesome day.
She’d fold her hands and bow her head.
“Dear Lord,” she would begin.
“I’ll wait right here forever;
Even for a ship that won’t come in.”
November 20, 2000
