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flit by her window lonely fingers tap panes  softly    no one hears the gentle call and  she waits inside alone quiet   she cannot call out to the children skipping past along the street   her voice is locked  inside untill the spell is broken and her heart open   pain and grief are buried in her soul wretchedness and anger not forgotten   terrible silence grips the house and her being in its tight fist   she cannot bring  herself to move on and upwards to a new life   so she watches the children play and remembers the days she skipped   and leapt to dance and to flirt with tall handsome soldiers smiling   when she was a child and knew not that terror and hate could kill   leaves fall replaced by laughing flakes of white that light the happy children's eyes   a tap on the door  shocks her into  slow movement that propels her forward   again the tap repeats  and she carefully moves to the door that locks out her life   to open is unthinkable terrifying yet hope fills her more impossible is thinking to ignore   a tremulous push  opens the door and  she blinks at the bright light shining   a quiet voice speaks would you like to make a snow angel? you have such wonderful piles of snow here   a catch and cough as she breathes in and tries to use the rusted voice   i don't know how come, I wil show you a little hand hugs the gnarled fist   and the soul unlocks the heart fills and the children skip as her face creaks and smiles