She lay on her back

Her jacket was too big

 

Fresh dying leaves on top

Rotten dying leaves on bottom

 

The coming frost bit the end of her nose

Her hair tickled her neck

The zipper grazed her ear lobe

 

The branches croaked over head

Under the sway of spared trees

 

No one liked her

And she would never know why.

 

#Prompt5

Hour 5 Prompt 5