Is it only a flower?

Is it only a flower?
That lovely orchid,
swaying in the wind,
would one think it had a soul?

Its petals drift away,
like time, so short,
yet it ignores time,
ignores the hour.

One of many colors,
how I wish it could talk,
it whispers too silent,
too silent to notice.

Some notice,
their eyes open,
to its wonder,
its beauty.