Age Cannot Wither Her

The vase had pride of place on the
highly polished table. A small lace cloth placed underneath to
protect the surface. The vase almost as old as her, purchased from an
antiques fair many years ago. Light reflected and refracted within
its many facets. It was kept for special occasions, this time her
birthday. She tried not to think about all those years, all the water
that had run under bridges during her life. Stormy, turbulent waters,
calm, placid, crystal clear waters and even almost dried up muddy
channels.

The vase, during its life with her,
had held a great number of celebratory blooms. Marking many occasions, births, marriages,
special times and sometimes just to provide a splash of colour to
lighten the room and the mood.

She carefully unwrapped the
flowers, her choice this time tulips. Each bloom furled upon itself,
hiding its secrets until the time was right. The colours vibrant and
glossy reflecting some of the light streaming through the window.
Carefully cutting each stem she placed them in the vase tweaking and
rearranging till they met with her approval.

They would last, they would
blossom, they would bloom. Creeping from their birth to their end of
life. She loved each of their stages, seeming to reflect her own
life. But she particularly liked their last stage when colours had
dulled and become subtle.

They clung on to life, had a great
beauty.

They remained in their antique vase
for as long as possible. Giving her pleasure at every stage of their
aging.