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I want to submit this poem to Story Embers. Please tear it apart! Tell me if it’s any good, what to fix, anything! 🙂 @libby @scribbles @sir-leeds  @evelyn @k-a-grey @kb-writer

 

Moonflower

 

She is the moonflower.

A mysterious being in the daylight,

With no apparent beauty

But her fluid grace.

 

Her leaves and tiny tendrils search, probing,

Pursuing the light above.

Her vines cling to the guiding trellis,

As she makes her way up the rough wall.

Why is she among the cherished beauties?

 

Few truly know her,

For only those who look deeply for loveliness,

Peering through the playful shadows at dusk,

And through the shroud of twilight,

Who discover

 

On the tender, weaving vine,

Moonbeams caress a small, green bundle.

It gradually peeps open,

Eagerly stretching its petals outwards.

Reflecting the light of the moon,

A blossom,

Pale and pure.

 

Her leaves flutter softly in the breeze.

A honeyed sweetness drifts through the night air,

As luminous flowers cluster over the vine,

Filled to their brims with starlight.

 

Her beauty is hidden,

And many take her for a common vine.

But they are mistaken.

 

Even her common appearance cannot hide her identity.

For when others show their beauty, she does not.

But where they cannot,

in the darkness,

she blooms.