Sarah peers out a window,
At a man she's never met,
She's counting on the raindrops,
But they haven't started yet
And the voices in the closet,
Are from children never born,
And the hair she twirls nervously,
Are locks that have been shorn
And the schooner that awaits her,
On a distant, ghostly shore,
Will take her from a husband,
Who doesn't want her anymore
She smiles so very brightly,
Through the numbing phantom pain,
From a non-existent bullet,
Lodged tightly in her brain
Copyright; EGHarne
