Sylvia took us unaware with her violet eyes and rainbow hair, was she human or sprite—perhaps a spirit of the light, or the embodiment of flowers of all seasons, of all hours. Once, I saw her twice in a blue moon, twice, I saw her floating n o o l l a b a like her laughter drifted down from the sky, lighting it, like a star somehow--yet how and why? Consider the source—the whispers and sighs of flowers, of poets, the artist’s eyes. I’m hosting dVerse tonight. There is some much awfulness and horror in the world, so I decided on a bit of whimsy. For my prompt, I've asked poets to use one or more of the garden rose names I have selected in their poems. I chose Sylvia and Twice in a Blue Moon. My mom’s name was Sylvia. She did not have violet eyes or rainbow hair. She did have an unforgettable laugh. And she was an artist who often painted flowers.