XanSketchPad

The wind whistled, sending icy knife-like gusts through her branches. The old honeysuckle tree shuddered, clinging to her leaves like the tatters of a cloak. Her thin twigs reach out, trying to grab at a few withered and brown tatters as they get ripped from her. She lets out a hiss as she shivers. The nest she lovingly cradled, keeping safe during the summer now was forgotten as she let it slip to the ground. The cold was breaking her apart. Winter was just starting and she felt it already lingered on too long. It felt like a lifetime ago that she bore creamy perfumed blossoms in her bright emerald hair. Felt like centuries since birds sang