In the garden of whispers, where sundown tickles night, a flower named Fernie once claimed:
"I'm more celestial than your average daisy."
To which a humble violet replied, "Duchess of Celestial? I think not; your pedals are but dusk's pyjamas!"
But the lilies, always the peacekeepers, chimed in with a symphony of silent nods. Symbiotic whispers are the blooms' secret, or so they say.