Her Belief

Her fingers press against the cold glass
as she forgets the past.
Her memories won't last,
without all those old photographs

Is she waiting for answers?
Or does she just wait for the rain to come,
and wash it all away?
And maybe, just maybe,
the sun will bring a new day...

She won't break through the bitter cold air.
But would stop for soft falling snow,
because it's a mirage of merriment not meant to exsist.
At least, not through this frigid mist .

But she chooses to believe
that spring will melt it away .
She chooses to believe in these promises
She chooses to wait for a better day...