A Warm August Night

Light peeked through the branches
The blazing sun illuminated the oak
As the morbid shadow stained the grass
Acorns and twigs engulf the ground
Jagged and sharp sticks lie there
Broken

Just like her.

The air held a crisp morning scent
Just as it did on August 26th
Leaves rustled in the breeze
A faint bird chirp was lost in the wind
Like her screams struggling to escape from her mouth
No one

Could hear them.

The slow light seemed to fade
It could no longer fight the night
Darkness covered the oak
It was gone
She was dead.