I have it on good authority, that sunflowers, are the most aggressive of flowers. They often stand as an army, overbearing and yellow, silently sneering at all that cross their path. As time goes on, more and more armies of sunflowers started to appear, devouring other plants that got too close to their borders. They looked happy as a collective, bright and promising, but they weren’t.
The brightness was blinding, the promise of standing tall and strong was misleading, you can stand strong, but only if you stood amongst others, only others the same, for then there’s much more land to claim, if you’re one and the same…If a big round face showed too much wonder in it’s eyes, and tended to wander in surprise to the others, trusting the earth and wind as a guide, the others would intervene. It has been seen.
“We stand as an army” they’d say in a haunting, taunting whisper, in unison every time.
The birds knew what they were up to, they’d tut at them in disapproval as they swerved overhead.
“Why not let this one wander, they have dreams to follow and a world to see. Why keep them stood in order, why not let them walk free?” cooed down a crow.
A few sunflowers looked up and scowled. “Trouble making owl!” one scorned, not the brightest in the field.
As night time fell, they’d tuck their heads down, for they only paid reverence to the sun, only one, element was important to them. But there was one sunflower, with a quiet but strong power, to see through the fearsome yellow and would hold her head up to the moon. She’d bathe in it’s cool glow, and she quickly started to know, that one day, she’d become a moonflower, one that grows and grows and grows….
Fin.