The Whisper of the Hollyhock

A poetic response to "The sound of the Hollyhocks" by H. Garner

The flowers love to talk,
Daises roses and the hollyhock.
When it is silent, you can hear them so well,
Now, hush, a story is they are about to tell.

Beside the window, there used to be Rock,
A young man who was always listening to the hollyhocks.
With a heart that is broken and future chosen,
He kept his own dream forever unspoken.

One late Autumn night, I had a nightmare,
I saw a star falling across the still night air;
Like a diamond fell into heaps of coal.
With it, there rose a young man's mournful soul.