whispers

leaves fell to the ground that day, and psithurism dominated the air. and she enjoyed hearing their rustle and whispers as she sat under the old tree with those leaves gorgeous leaves of brown and red, their sweet memories stuck to her mind and a plastered smile to her face. but the agony from his death made her weep. she heard the whispers of the dried leaves while she narrated her story to them, the only real friends of this "mad" lady. and with each leaf that fell to the ground, she felt her pain alleviate as she experienced her last agony. together, the friends faded away. what a sublime feeling it was, both bitter and sweet at the same time