Moonflower

Moonflower, what became of your pride?
Why do I only see you now, after eventide?
You're just as primed, as the Marigold....
With just as many majestic yellows, to behold.
And you're every bit as worthy to be held,  
With your dulcet fragrance, as yet marvelled.
 
Moonflower, robed in exquisite white....
Still, the best of you, lay drenched, in night....
Lies somewhere beneath the pale.
Hidden no more, would the sage moon prevail.
 
Moonflower, at my feet.
Self respect, in itself, is not conceit.
And to this lie, one shouldn't concede.
That you might only ever be a seed.
But rather perfect in your design,
With Thanksgiving, to The Divine.