agatha christie orjales

The sounds of her violin amerce from my mind, it sounds like her
favorite childhood lullaby,
Another night dinner for one
Another night in a place with no love
Another night with sorrow and despair
Another night with silence in the air
Another night of a forged smile
Another night knowing I won’t feel happiness for a while
Another night of talking to myself
Another night of wanting to hang myself
Another night of close feelings
Another night of not eating
Another night of clutching to her pillow, wishing I wasn’t a widow.