Quintessence

If in a parallel world, you could hear a flower speak, What do you think it would say to you? And which one would you pick? The little white gypsy peeking through the bunch of green, Or the pink calendula standing tall in the bustling air? The proud rose red blooming in its own fragrance, Or that sunflower turning to its benefactor for grace each morning? Which one would you choose? And again, what would it say! You really think they would debate the cunning of a man? Or would they, in a sweet voice, sing praises of nature to you? They couldn’t possibly talk of their own beauty. Such narcissism should mar their prospects of talking at all. But what if only, if only – They just smile, fluttering in the wind, And tell you their names?