A flower felt very fabulous one whole night, and so carried along by great tides, high, so higher and so low.
It lived in a long dream; long but with an ultimate end which was not known when it would be.
Then it ended regretfully, left behind imprinted memory of struggling separation of the flower from the plant; a difficult and torturing process.
Wind blew, the flower flew from sight, and diminished.
My mom has passed away peacefully last Sunday morning.