she was opening. i was waiting for a moment to sit down and say to you that the up-open (not yet out-open) petals of her -- she was like a thousand hands lifting, all reaching in the same direction: a thousand thousand hands reaching for the light. so bring so pink.
i woke in the morning, i came in, she was limp. every petal, every leaf. i lifted the tall thin dark green bottle she was resting in and held it to the light; found, sure enough, that her stem was above the water. in her days with me she drank 8 inches of water from the tall thin dark green glass bottle.
i was sad. and then i decided not to be, and to let her be beautiful this way.
the color is changing. now she is shades of palepale pink mixed with still-bright bits of pink, and in places her golden stamens show. her petals lie crinkled; layers and layers and layers of silk skirts; a princess, a dancing girl, a beautiful beautiful thing