She felt the cracked, dry elderberries between her two fingers.  Where had the life gone?  Once many clusters had hung in the tree, shiny black and full of expectancy.  Like their friendship.

They had been drawn together like two streams meandering steadily into an eager brook.  But then the thief of affection stole what was beautiful and true, as jagged rocks of misunderstanding split their paths.

She let the berries fall gently towards the ground.  As they drifted down she noticed the pale pink of the clover flower nuzzling its way through the damp grass.  And she smiled.

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