On a warm afternoon, there sat a sweet seedling waiting to bloom.
She was gently guided to the garden by a sweet storm, a most welcomed summer rain storm.
The little seedling firmly planted herself, her roots are strong, and she is still vulnerable, but she continues to grow . . .
She has tasted the rain, the sun, the solitude of herself. The space were she resides, she is no longer afraid of, for she knows she is safe there and has blossomed . . .
Her black velvet skin is soft to the touch, she is statuesque with rubinesque qualities and her head is held high, accepting the rain as it falls gently on her.
She has changed from a little seedling, to a blossoming sweet black orchid.
In the garden where she sits, she waits for her very first touch . . .
The sweet nectar dripping from her petals, attracting only the strongest of black butterflies.
She is still delicate, has so much more to learn, and just as much to give . . . trusting only the one who has completely earned her gift.
She is still searching inside herself, finding her true desires.
As she attempts to search for the discipline of the strong black grower she needs, the black butterfly who will take her away and make her his own.
She needs to be guided, trained and most of all protected, the one that captures her heart, will help her grown and she shall never die, for flowers never do.
