Evening Primroses

Evening Primroses  
 
She still remembers the night  
the moon rose over Esplanade Avenue  
with its light penetrating her soul  
deeper than the sun on a hot summer’s day.  
 
She stands at the ivy gate to heaven  
looking up at the ghostly trees  
bearded in Spanish moss.  
Love creeps like ivy  
through the garden of her heart.  
 
The promise of entwinement  
knots in her breast.  
Luna’s ray sneaks into the keyhole  
to the door of her soul  
behind which secret love hides.  
 
His ring finger is a moonbeam  
that touches the rosebud of her chin  
until she blossoms  
into an evening primrose
for whom the cool shadows
of a fragile peace
are her umbrella
when fire rains at noon