Like a cliche
she wonders through her house
touching the framed memories
with her fingertips
Her gaze lands on the windowed door
where he once stood
looking at her, lovingly
and patiently as she made her way
to open it
...and she waits
For the day when he may return
as a surprise like a package
with a bow
The phone rings
and for a moment
she holds hope in her heart
that it is he, but
sadly, it is not
...and she waits
Every day
she checks her
various sources of mail
and message taking
devices
For any word that
he may still be thinking of
her
Feeling long since forgotten
she makes a pact with herself
to get on with her life
to mend her broken heart
she swears tomorrow
will be different
...and she waits
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