Some people may consider her too stern, too matter-of-fact, but she isn't; in her boudoir there is scent and sachet and frilly, ribbony things that nobody ever sees.

And flowers from me.

She loves roses best of all and she says she buries her face in them.

I send her roses, mostly, so they can kiss her cheeks for me.

A tiny yellow love bird in a tiny yellow cage sings her awake every morning.