Bleeding Heart

She is wearing fuchsia, he told me. It was easy to see her now. No wonder he was smitten. She had a confidence that uplifted the garden. The other flowers paled in comparison. I am shy, he told me. I cannot do this! You are a bee, I said sternly. She is expecting you. He made a couple of attempts to sidle up, but failed. You do it, he told me. I’m not ready. I rolled my eyes. Why do monarchs always have to lead the way? Is it only in this garden or is it every garden? When I got closer I veered off. Also intimidated. I had never seen a blossom this lovely.