Moon Flower

Softly fades the light of day, that blazing orb of fire falls freely to the West.

Shafts of light gleam through the trees, they glisten and glow, spurts of sporatic sparkles.

That ray of light pierces the veil of darkness and envelops the single sprout.

The bulb upon being carressed by the soft gleaming beam blooms into a wonderful explosion of hope.

Five white-speckled petals shine true, reflecting the rays of light like water on an Autumn day.

Pistols rise from the depths of their imprisonment and lance forth the air that surround them.

The flower seems to sway in the breeze, the wind howling through the hollow trees.

With the Mitas touch the flower extends its reach and gives off an exuberant golden glow.

Gracefully gripping the surrounding grass the flower uproots and dances the dance of the moon.

The flower is beauty. Yet behold, the broken ties it brings upon its burdens.

And as quickly as the moon grew to size it dwindles away, leaving the flower to rest again. In its lonely spot.

Kept in wait, for the moon to rise again.