Reaching up to the heavens.
Further on I made tracks to an old cemetery. I made acquaintance with a lady who was bringing flowers to her parents grave. She had just visited another cemetery where her husband was buried. Her loving act made me think of my mum who very tenderly cares for my father's and his parents' resting place. The graves of my past are too far to visit these days, but the old photos come out from time to time.
This flower carries the love of remembering a person who touched your life. It's come undone, adrift, frayed around the edges, but hasn't lost any of it's 'look at me blooming' nature. Slow to fade, just like the memories.