September Sixth with a Whisper

The day bled into dusk as I sat by the window and watched the sky fall into shadows. Trees silhouetted the yard. Trees silhouetted the yard, a late day of summer not yet fall a feeling of nothingness and I looked out the window as the day passed with a whisper. As the day passed with a whisper the sky turned amber for a moment and yard lights flickered stars. A voice whispered all good children must go inside. All good children stepped inside but now a sense of innocence was lost how I remembered someone I barely knew had just died three houses down on the quiet side street. On a quiet side street my refuge sought lost in refection and the passage of time as the day bled into dusk.