Is there meaning?

The morning sun is her rooster.
It creeps in through the window panes, fighting through condensation. Her eyes struggle to open.
‘It’s morning,’ she says.
She’s comfortable waking up alone.
Why does she need anybody when she has herself?
She gazes at a single drop of water on the window.
It sparkles from the sun beaming on its back.
The word floats around wondering why it exists.
Is she alone like the one drop of water that ended up alone?
Or is she alone like the many people surrounded by people, that still seem to be alone?
Words are words.
They can carry a meaning or carry nothing at all.