i dream of night lilies the way a starving man dreams of rivers
intangible, that stuff of dreams night liles are made from yet i desire to touch, to kiss the pale violet petals with my lips bask in the intoxicating scent of their perfume
undeniable, the seductive musk of things that bloom at night yet like insect to honey trap i search for another taste of their midnight sweetness for a glimpse of blooming splendor i am lost forever
there is something sacred about their hesitant beauty shying away from the golden light of waking day, they float, incandescent, like lanterns on the pavilion of night like stars in vapour, they guide dreaming wanderers across the water