the quivering of petunias

Sitting under the shade tree in the back patio, engaged in approved geezer behavior, watching the petunias quiver in the gentle breeze. The breeze blows through my mind, conjuring thoughts. Person A sees me this way. Person H sees me that way. Person Z sees me still another way. Which one is me? None of them. I am a legend in their own minds, simply a myth understanding. Why? No me exists, only this rising and falling, this falling and rising.