Come To My Window

When I saw this photo on Brian’s site,
Bushboys World, I knew I wanted to
write something. Here it is. Thanks to
Brian for the use of his wonderful photo.

Every night at midnight, she appeared at the window …. the baker’s daughter with flour still dusting her hair. He’d climb the oak tree, careful to avoid the creaking branch that might wake her father.

“Thomas, this is madness,” she whispered through the gap where the curtain hung torn.

“Then let’s be mad together. Run away with me, Elizabeth. Tonight.”

The weathered green frame had witnessed their stolen moments for months …. hurried kisses, whispered plans, her small hands pressed against the cold glass when he had to leave.

She glanced back at the bedroom she’d known her whole life. The faded curtains, the peeling paint, the safety of predictability. Then at Thomas, rain-soaked and desperate, offering nothing but uncertainty and everything that mattered.

“My bag’s already packed,” she said, pushing the window open wider. “It’s been ready for weeks.”

He helped her through, her white nightgown catching on the splintered wood. Neither looked back as they ran toward the waiting horse, leaving only the curtain fluttering in the night breeze …. a ghost of the girl who’d finally chosen love over fear.

NAR© 2026

This is “Would You Go with Me” by Josh Turner

Through the old window

All text and graphics are copyright for Nancy Richy and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.