The time has come,

Night must fall.

A softened chill,

Sweeps over all.

The stars come out,

And start to glisten.

Silence rings,

For those who listen.

The Flower sits calmly,

Closing to rest.

Just as the Moon,

Reveals its crest.

An uncanny connection,

The feeling of Love.

‘tween the Flower below,

And the Moon up above.

With beams of light,

The Moon does proclaim.

It’s love for this being,

Fragile and tame.

But no matter how thin, 

The pedals may seem. 

To this sweet Flower, 

‘Tis but a dream.

I can tell you however,

though the Sun offers kisses.

It is the Moon, dear friends,

The Flower truly misses.

-AB