The Woman in the Window

I came from the suburbs,
She lived right down town,
I was always rushing by,
She was sitting down

In her rocking chair
behind the window glass.
She always held a coffee cup
When I came driving past

For years I saw her daily,
But we never met.
We never smiled, never waved,
Never spoke and yet

I felt I knew her well:
Knew her fine white hair,
The contour of her slender arms,
The rocking of her chair.

She was a striking figure,
Fixed in time and space;
In all that sprawl of urban life,
She kept a sense of place.

And then one cool clear day,
I looked and she was gone,
No rocking chair, no fine white hair;
How could I just drive on?

Abby Arthur Johnsons


“Old Woman by a Window” by William G. Hooper