enfa9.cc 
I am Iris, an iris, as you may have already figured. Just like every other plant, I don’t usually walk around like those dumb fluffy creatures. Power doesn’t reside in how many times you patrol the little patch of soil that you arbitrarily designated as your kingdom. I reign the land that I’m standing on, perhaps even beyond.
My friends are mostly sedate, too. Some of them are iris, others trees, daisies, or plants that I don’t recognize. Our conversations are long and slow, as one, if not all of us, are always easily distracted. We might be listening to the ripples, or trying to catch a glimpse of woodpecker’s red beak, but no one forgets, and no one's in a hurry. Our timeline simply doesn’t reply on the journey of the sun, but on the journey within ourselves. Every winter, some among the oldest or weakest die, and the next spring, another one of the same kind emerge from the same spot. The successor inherits all the memories since the creation of this world. The rest of us can never tell whether he is the same one as the deceased.
No one tries to tell anyways.
