She Could Be Me

My begonia plant offers blooms the color of my favorite ruby red lipstick.  Nestled into a mossy pot on my back patio, she thrives in the shade.  Kneeling close down and eye-to-eye, I see Frida Kahlo peeking to be seen.  That surrealistic Mexican painter who died the day before I was born.  She's wears a graceful, flowing skirt made of layers and layers of begonias petals, the color of hot chili peppers.  A headband of bright red roses sits atop her raven-colored hair.  She makes me smile.  And I wonder how that headband would look on me.   In the cool shade of the maple tree, she dances and twirls although she suffers in pain.  A huge and multi-colored parrot sits on her shoulder and whispers who knows what into her ear.  I dance when nobody is looking and suffer as we all do.  My imaginary Frida Kahlo could be me.  And she could be you.