Not too far from shore lies a portly estate that sits in well with it's overlooking surroundings. Blue is the main color of the maison's clapboards, however, all the details have been whitewashed for distinction. Distinctly so, high in it's majesty a woman walks wearing a treaded path in the floorboards.
Aye, 'tis the "widow's walk!" Encased in fragile spindles of distinction, she paces and looks far off into the distance of the Atlantic hoping to see his approaching vessel near the craggy shore. Her brows knit and her arms cross and uncross in frustration as her shawl gently blows in the salt wind. Mark her forehead which is also caressed by the wind as the movement of her strands expose a widow's peak. Has she been doubly crossed to walk that which she is? - 9/27/06
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