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Flower Poem

The poem is a sonnet. Normally, I felt the pain of painting the picture of a less-talked-about, awesome flower in a few lines; and so a fourteen-line poem seemed atrophied to the task. But upon second thought, It came to me that if I must limn it's beauty, I must do so with utter brevity which has a

Queen of the Night

© Prosper anuforoh
Though dawn’s lightsome light

Upon all earth’s beauties fawn,

Darkness is never shorn of fun.

A rare beauty spreads her vanilla scent

At dusk – Queen of the Night!

Her flower is the rarest crown

Which, in one year, she but one night on

(Light yellow areoles, Whorls of bright white)

In the wake of whose waning beauty, and death,

crawls nascent and chirpy Aurora.

She’s our Lady’s shrine’s shrub

Whose scent will Her fine face ever scrub:

Humble (not proud), mild, is her aura

As she keeps her devotion by Her on earth...

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