She ran


His maple tree was a reminder of her bitter autumn.

The vivid orange glared her like he did,

    the deep red leaves

                    the color of his eyes,

              the dirt they stood on              color of his hair.

So she ran.


   Far away to where the dirt turned to rock and

    she was met with only the deep sapphire

of the Mediterranean.

   A single white boat floated closer                 and closer.

A boy was atop it.

    His silver bracelet gleamed in the sun, a replica of the one

that lay on her wrist.

                       She got that bitter feeling.