I keep dreaming of Dahlias again. Yellow and magenta ones too, with their forever whorls. I dream of their florets. Tiny ones too opening up with endless swirl. Every single sighting is full of grace. How long will this grace last?They are the perfect flowers. Teasing my soul, daring us. Every sighting isn’t confused. They help to remember her smile, her voice, the back of her hands, the depth of her plans. Our hearts are still bruised. Grace, brought us this far. Grace will see us through. Keep the sights of graceful Dahlias.