My Petunia

"Aren't you pretty, I love how you're standing in the perfect patch of sunlight. Here let me get you some water," the gnome rushed off and came back a moment later, cold water in hand. "Refreshing, am I right?"

"I'm not blocking the sun, am I? I am? I'll scoot riiighht over here..." Stepping with careful footsteps, the gnome moved to sit on a bright fuschia-colored Adirondack chair with a fluffy green pillow embroidered with crepe myrtle blossoms. "Is this better? Good, I don't want you to be in the shade. It wouldn't be kind to your complexion, and such a beautiful blushing pink it is, too."

"What's that? You'd like to hear a ballad? I don't have much of a voice, but I'll try." Clearing his throat, the gnome threw back his head and with a deep baritone started to recite, "When the moon..."

"Howard? Howard, are you singing to that blasted plant again? I'm beginning to think you love it, more than you love me. Howard? HOWARD!"