Photo by Autumn Mott Rodeheaver on Unsplash
Reds, yellows, and browns
Plucked by the brisk Autumn breeze
Spin down to the ground.
About the Creator
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More stories from Josh Ripperger and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Fae King
It began with a girl. Black-haired and sweet and gone too soon. It is the way of mortals to die, of course. Most pass within a few decades, unless they can be tempted away to fairyland and persuaded to stay there. Even then, mortals live only as long as they can go without visits to friends or family that allow time and the weight of years to catch up to them.
By Natasja Rosea day ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Oooo, I love the idea of the leaves plucked by the breeze!
I love the imagery of autumn colored, crispy confetti!