It would be a purple flower full of bloom, edges and softness. It would demand your attention, it would look different each time it was displayed. It would grow and it would arch to the light. It would have thorns some days and soft, gentle leaves others.
It would be touchable.
It would be untouchable.
It would be beautiful and fragrant and wilted and inert. Some days lavish, others bent over and thirsty...it would be thirsty...for liquid and light as well as depth and darkness.
It wouldn't have a name all called it; it would depend on one's relationship and familiarity to it.
It would always be visible and colorful, but uncertain and ambiguous.
It would beg for question and study and it would welcome innocent curiosity of every child asking their parent what kind of flower it is.
It would grow in urban terra cotta deck pots as much as it would grow wild in the mountains on a rocky slope.
It would beg your attention, command your touch, and look delicious tucked behind your ear.