This is a poem about an old secret love affair that I once had.

 A love affair with this magnificent flower of a cactus vine, that I grew up with in Florida. She only blooms on a very, very rare occasion, in the wee hours of the night, under the subtleness of the moonlight, where the lonesome seekers of the sublime curiously wander and frolic.

She is known as the Princess Of The Night,

but I knew her as Moonflower.

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I was always mystified on those very rare occasions, when riding my bike, by myself, late at night, I would begin to smell her enchanted tones that were so aromatic and unique.

Tones that gracefully mingled with the soothingness of the warm

and humid tropical air,

like the pleasantness of dessert mingling on one’s tongue.

It was like someone was baking, in the distance,

the most sweetest of candies.

 

I would immediately begin to search, anticipating my

witnessing, of a loving miracle.

While the rest of the world lay in its slumber,

I was wide eyed, fully awake, and captive to the moment of the dancing scent, sundering from my secret lover. Then finally the first sight of her, and like a young teenager experiencing their first crush, my heart blissfully pattered!

I allowed my eyes to drink in all that

they could handle of her mythical appearance.

A powerful, glowing, and angelical beauty from long, long ago,

who so gracefully stands the test of time,

never, ever aging.

 

For those brief moments became a cosmic eternity as we each

silently shared with the other, softly caressing one another, far beyond the limitations of touch. Intoxicated by our exchange, we each effortlessly continued until a deep voice of reality, coming from the momentum of movement, reluctantly said to the both of us, “It is time to let go.” But in the briefness of the grief, we each became comforted, as we knew that the grace of Father Time would unite us once again, in his ever reliable future, once again within the comforting hands of the Lunar glow.