For Morning Must Break …

The world is silent, as if it ended in the night.

Tinted sunlight flows in through the gaps between the trees, washing away the tainted gray, awakening the greens and browns.

She sits upon the cold metal bench, soaking up the morning dew, waiting, knowing, dreading…

Morning spears through the abyss, like diamonds dancing a macabre dance upon the shadowed stones. Her fingers push heavenwards, trying to stop the sun, but the heartless devil continues to rise like any other day.

She watches helplessly as the excruciatingly words emerge.

Susan Ann Marie
Beloved angel
Budded on earth
To bloom in heaven
2008 – 2018

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In response to Priceless Joy‘s 181st Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge, prompted by a photo by Jodi McKinney