If flowers could talk,
they would whisper to each other whenever the wind blew,
like a long chain of chinese whispers,
talking about the weather and dew.
They would compliment each other on their
perfume fragranced petals,
and giggle when a bumble bee sucked out its nectar.
Their stalks and leaves,
which grew on them like clothes,
were talked about,
like they were part of a fashion show.
And the poor, unwanted, ugly garden weeds,
were the mockery and gossip that they would need.
By мαяια:;♥
