Autumn
A 100 word Microfiction
In Autumn, we drive to the country. Buy curd from a little stand to munch and squeak as we admire the changing trees.
Not this year. As the leaves blush and redden, her cheeks pale. Hair once so vibrant falls to fill the drain. She is exposed, the bones that shape her suddenly clear. A wraith left to tremble in the wind.
She refuses to see the doctor. I rail against her intransigence. We could gain one more day. One final autumn drive.
Perhaps she is right. After all, I don’t need the weatherman to tell me winter is coming.
Weird time to write about Autumn, I know. It was 1am and doom-scrolling Instagram to hopefully bore myself to sleep when I come across writing prompt from SplitPoetryIndia. Turns out it is fall there and weirdly I feel inspired, so here we go.
I don’t share a lot of people’s poetry. Most of it is weird, or bad, or weird and bad, (including my own). This, by Misha Seeks spoke to me.
