Her neck is a long, slender column, her head swaying almost limply in the breeze. As the sun rises, her eyes open: slowly, she lifts her chin, blinking into the light, all of her sighing and leaning into the warmth. The morning sunshine washes over her, and under its tender care she thrives -- her color only waning as noon passes and the shadows begin to lengthen. Night comes creeping up, the golden halo of sun dipping below the horizon, and her head has already begun to droop, eyes falling closed.
As the last light dies, so does she.