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