A Gift on the Sill

I awoke to a flower on the sill. Its petals were black, its stem resting in a dirty cup as if dug out of a river. The flower smelled of rot, yet I could not throw it out. I do not know how I knew, but I knew Kathrijn had left for it for me. My daughter had told me she was alive. That I should seek her out amongst the flowers. Marisse