My Evening Primrose
Upon the descending darkness, a flower blooms by its presence.
The rarest of its kind, she mirrors the night’s resplendence.
Her eyes are perfectly round, with hair of auric magnificence.
Smile are as bright as the moon, vibrant and iridescent.
.
.
Unlike the other blossoms, she grew fond of the darkness.
For when dusk shall come, only she can be the brightest.
Below the countless sunsets, she grew more and more relentless.
She felt love for the first time, a dream that seemed so endless.
.
.
They say love is found, even upon the strangest of place.
But to have loved the darkness, darling, it is a losing race.
She may be the prettiest, she may be the perfect gaze.
But the night won’t love you back, nor spare a small embrace.
.
.
But smile for me still, my precious twilight flower.
Let enticement sojourn, alluring amber color.
Though love has let you down, the edge is still farther.
Upon the befalling aeon, she shall meet the matching lover.
