Battered, bruised and browning
they held on for dear life
as the season was coming to an end.
As petals fell to the ground
the essence of their beauty
was left in the sweet
that trailed in the air.
If you were to close your eyes,
you could still picture the perfect bloom.
This is a Flash Fiction Friday 55
hosted by Mr. Knowitall.
For more 55's pay him a visit -
If you think Micro Fictions are fun.
Come join me for a Sunday 160.
A challenge using exactly 160 characters
in a story, poem or writing of your choice.