Playing with photography

Like a flower I grow, like it I die. I’m consumed without light, because of it I live. I open the petals, it’s your smile, in me I shut up, I’m so shy. One day I will be so dry, fragile... without those pretty golden petals of mine. But before I will have my time, when I will blossom in spring. So great common thing...I think Oh my dear, take care of me, until all cold here again will be.