The Little Girl From the Window
Her entire childhood, always with a finger on a page
The Window Child
She waits by the window, pale and small,
No laughter answers her quiet call.
Books are her friends, their voices glow,
While outside drifts the silent snow.
The children pass, they never stay,
Her world is pages, night and day.
Like the match girl in the frost,
Dreams are lit, though warmth is lost.
Yet in her eyes, a fire burns bright,
Stories shelter her through the night.
Rejected, alone, yet never undone—
Her soul finds warmth where words still run.
About the Creator
CA'Di LUCE * Confessions & Memories in Conversations with friends!/ It’s not a revolution—it’s a quiet evolution.
I speak of spirit, soul, and flame,
Of humanity’s quest, our endless aim.
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