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Literature Text
The sheets are dirty, the windows covered in dust and phantom fingerprints,
And she sighs, and sits, and waits
As the rain drips down and seasons change, she looks at sepia letters hoping for hints
To her children’s fates
The war is over, but they haven’t returned,
This fact she truly hates
But all she can do is hope and sigh
And sit and wait.
And she sighs, and sits, and waits
As the rain drips down and seasons change, she looks at sepia letters hoping for hints
To her children’s fates
The war is over, but they haven’t returned,
This fact she truly hates
But all she can do is hope and sigh
And sit and wait.
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