If Flowers Could Live
A TALE OF FRIENDS My name is Jon. If you can accept the premise that I'm a flower, then I congratulate you on your imaginative prowess. If not, perhaps you should consider what a flower would feel. Today I feel alone and lost. I am a beauty, created for love, without eyes to witness my design and carry my memory. The question, "Do I matter?" is consuming; deafening even. I feel as though even if I had means and the will to move, it would be of no consequence. The world would move about without notice that I could take in the good land. I fear I do not matter. "You could try talking to me. My name is Way." "Way? Have you always been there? I was given the name Jon." "Yes, Jon. I was here long before you sought the far side, reaching for the road." "Mine is a fine view of the babbling creek, who tells such fine stories. You should hear her speak, Jon. Oh the joy!" "That is well and good, Way