The Day Aura Celeste Died

The day Aura Celeste died
I sat in the battered leather chair on the porch,
Damp from a careless hosing of the hanging plants.

I heard the Robin clucking his evening song.  
I heard an unfamiliar bird, perhaps babies whining for worms.  

As dusk settled
Two families of coyotes cried to each other across the valley.  
The orange cat perched on his spot on the table, licking a paw and surveying the garden.  

Nothing was out of place on this late spring day,
When the forest displays so many lush, vibrant varieties of green.  
Nothing was out of place on this day that Aura Celeste died.

Only I was out of place… tired, sad, empty, dark.  
A beautiful child who loved to draw, to play guitar,
on the cusp of her teen adventure

And now
And now there will be no more nows.


(Thank you for reading.  I just want to know how you reacted to the piece.  It needn't be honest criticism or friendly feedback unless that's how you reacted to the piece.  I wish there was a box that said, "So what happened when you read it?")