The wide eyes blinked
It was over
The war has engulfed the pond, the garden, and the moon
It wasn’t her choice
She smiled
Too young to worry, too old to cry
The wide eyes stared at a green leaf, among the ruins
The birds might come back
She poured what’s left of her water on what’s left of a tree
The apples will grow!
(A little darker than I usually write. That is because it was inspired by my life experience…)
Stranger Paths 