She sat at
her open window
and it shook
even before
a train came
into the
station,
but she
accepted it
and
it became
an old familiar
song which
hummed to
her
often.

It wasn’t always
like that.
Before her husband
passed away,
she had always
hated her
third-story
apartment with
its windows
only seven feet
away from the
onrushing trains.

Later, after
her husband’s
friends stopped
coming and
the neighbors
moved once
again,
she began to
look out
for the
trains,
listening
and finding
some sense
of comfort
in their
consistency.

They never
let her
down.