One August Evening
In the middle of our town,
sits a forest of green and brown.
Where birds sit idly by
and overhead looms the clear blue sky.
But one August evening
left everyone grieving
the loss of our beloved Pheasant branch,
as the floods came down like an avalanche.
A place formerly filled with laughter and flowers,
caved in, in a matter of hours.
Trees once rooted 30 feet above
came tumbling down onto the paths and bridges we loved.
These trees bent, cracked and fell.
All that was left was the swampy smell
of the waves that rushed in and slaughtered
the greenery that sank underwater.
From my childhood to my adolescence,
I grew up walking through Pheasant.
The memories my family has created there will always last,
even though it was destroyed much too fast.