At the doorway into our home, in the slanting, cool, morning light, she lures me and halts me in my footsteps with her delicate, ivory beauty. Bending down to kiss her soft petals with the tip of my nose, I leisurely inhale her sweet perfume.

At twilight, I step out into our garden, and glance back at her. Her tender petals are wilting with the fading evening light. I sit next to her in sisterhood, observing her frailty. Her fragrance grows stronger, as she surrenders to her dying.