The Sunflower

A man was walking down the road, and up to some dull ground. Where nothing was growing, all it was was a plot of ground with rocks, clay and soil. The previous week, he planted roses and other flowers right next to the dull ground that he’s at now. He had a small bag with him that was filled with seeds. Theses seeds where special, they where sunflower seeds. He threw these seeds on the ground and watered them so they would grow. I would often come and watch him. He would sit on a rock every day and talk to the sunflowers. He knew the sunflowers so well that he could understand what they said to him, if they chose to speak to him. I sat and watched them one day and found that unlike the other flowers the sunflower followed the sun. The gardener approached me with his can to water the flowers like he always did. I asked what does the flowers say to him. He said that some asked what they needed to do and some complained that they where not as pretty as the roses and others thank him for the many things he did for them. The years past and some died some never grew, some where eaten by birds, others were taken away by natural cases because they let go, some where over powered by weeds and the few that survived they produced seeds that way others could take their place.