Waiting at the Window

A time ago, an old soldier sat and watched,
Our loving world go by,
Though silence filled his face and mouth,
Sadness filled his eyes.

His muddy boots stood dusty,
Rotting day by day,
His uniform lay crumpled up,
His hair collecting gray.

Yet every day he sat there,
And watched the changing years,
Memories churning in his head,
Dwelling on his tears.

There was a time this man was young,
Serving in the war,
A gun was rooted to his hands,
Unaware of blood and gore.

But before he was a soldier,
A maiden stole his heart,
Her beauty shown throughout the town,
And hit him like a dart.



Her hair was a cascade of brown,
Her eyes a mellow blue,
Her smile and laugh were like the sun,
Yet she was an outcast Jew.

They loved with a love so pure and fine,
Yet it was prone to harm,
They both were taken different ways,
Stripped from each other’s arms.

He thought about her every day,
Prayed that she was fine,
Longed to God he’d see her again,
Afraid she’d change her mind.

She thought about him every day,
Even in living hell,
Though the pain was in her body,
It was in her heart as well.

Well it seems one day he was stationed,
In the killing camp,
When he arrived at the resident of death,
His heart and mind went damp.

Thousands of Jews stood working,
With eyes full of fear,
Thousands of Jews lived dying,
Afraid to survive a year.

Yet one Jew in particular,
Caught his wandering eye,
But he would not believe his thoughts,
It had to be a lie.

Her hair was cut and buzzed,
Her blue eyes wide and pail,
Her lips were cracked and bloody,
Her figure slim and frail.

Later that night, a note was passed,
into his stealthy palm,
Though he was excited,
He had to remain calm.

“Meet me at the window,” It said,
“When the sun grows old,
Meet me where no one dares to venture,
So our love can hold.”

So at the sun’s late set,
He went to the shack of fate,
He waited by the window,
And saw the view of hate.




All the prisoners were digging
Until the day was done,
Digging graves of death,
Hoping it was not their one.

He saw his love dig deep,
Wincing with her pain,
The darkness was closing in,
He could dream of love again.

When the prisoners started heading back,
She stopped and smile at the sky,
And headed over to the window,
As if to say good bye.

The yells of pure German hate,
The Guns were armed and alert,
Saying they could get rid of any life,
That they treated them like dirt.

The soldier rushed from his hiding place,
And held his arms up high,
And as the gun shot fired out,
He knew that she would die.

He rushed to his fallen love and held her,
Knowing he had paid the fee,
Yet until that moment he hadn’t known
How high the price of love could be.

He said to her silently, voice full of agony,
“Love, I’ll wait for you by the window,
Even when the sun grows old,
I’ll wait for you by the window,
Our story left untold.”

With a final smile and a glance,
He kissed her on the cheek,
Her blue eyes lay lifeless,
Her body soon went weak.

His cries will echo for ages,
His tears forevermore,
Though her soul has died and gone,
The reminder eternally soars.

Now the old man sits at the window,
Waiting for his love,
Waiting for his death to come,
Waiting for God above.

He waits for her to come,
To hold his hand and say,
“I have come to join you at the window,
And let this be our fate,
I have come to join you at the window,
So our love will conquer hate.”





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