Fallen
A wind storm thrashed the leaves, creases down. Veins throb red inside yellow. Fall. Fallen. Who said a bed of leaves? You left me in Spring when buds stuck to the trees like unfurled love notes awaiting a green lover. Not me. The leaves are down and I’m ready to lie in them. All orange. Make my bed. I’m brown and curled at the edges.
Filed under: Blog post, Short Story, Writing | Tagged: Fallen, flash fiction, leaves, love, seasons, writing | 4 Comments »
