She sits there by the window,
Every day in deep thought.
Thinking of the joys of being a kiddo,
Almost in her own world.
Oh, how she wishes she could feel young again;
It would result in a happy heart.
She would finally be able to see the ones she loved,
And she would no longer be called an “old fart.”
It almost seems like years since she’s done anything
But blankly stare at her window.
The window almost seems like the new answer
To all of her old problems.
Her name is Eleanor Rigby;
She waits at the window,
Waiting with a smile she keeps in a jar by the door.
When she realizes
That she is the loneliest of the lonely,
She hears a sudden knock at her door.
Her continuous stare is broken
When she opens the door
To the sight of Heaven’s gates.
The Quill 