That’s what you said while we walked by the sea. I didn’t know yours had been taken by a familiar shadow who stalked you through the woods. The grand, old owl your keeper; His bright eyes watching over you as your youth was tossed into a shallow grave. A great oak marks where it lies. I’m sorry. You needed me and I turned away, ignored your wails and your petrified eyes. Now I walk by the sea, alone, thinking of how you dived in. Pockets heavy with betrayal, you sunk to the bottom.
Sarah Keenan
