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The sorrow of a lonely woman
Quietly, I sit,
 By the window, I sit,
 biding my time,
 staring at the blank canvas of snow,
 turned grey by the dirt and grime,
 I sit.
 A knock at the door, I wait,
 pacing in the hallway, I wait,
 tiny glances,
 resigned sighs,
 another visitor, turned away.
 I wait.
 To the streets, I look,
 all the colors blend, I look,
 mufflers,
 coats,
 and people going home,
 to warmth, 
 to love.
 I sit.
 I wait.
 I look.

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