The late afternoon
Golden and clean in its winter contemplation,
Streaks silently through the grimy windows
(Which have endured years of handprints
And warm, sad cheeks pressed ancient and heavy
Against the glass)
Falling soft and lonely on her face.
Soon, the kids will be home from school,
Filling the house with noise and laughter,
And returning her to the daily drudgery of her existence...
But as the light shines warm and caramel on her skin,
Illuminating that lost youth of yesterday,
She is quiet,
Waiting for her life to finally begin...