Waiting

She looks through the Venetian blinds
 where her lovely town used to be,
She used to see children playing baseball or tag.
And they would eat the cookies she baked.
She still bakes somedays,
others she sits on her windowsill.
Looking for God to fix his mistake,
Death has taken her town,
and now she waits for him to come.
She'll see him through the Venetian blinds.