Moonflower (poetry)

He is the love
of the moon ,
Blooming in
my rusty coarse
memory lane in
the night time ,
White tinted
in the shimmery
golden moonlight ,
Unveils under
the blue wary ,
Sleeping as white
morning glory.

Saw the moths
native bees and
bats on his petals ,
Terrified , they will
degrade him for
their luscious
nectar ,
Can’t sway away
to entincting
fragrance ,
Getting consumed
by him is poisonous ,
While he grew
up between wilts ,
He is my moonflower
not my sunshine ,
befriending with
the weeds ,
Blossoms in dark
cloudy days his
stem in the wild
wilts ,
I knew if I devour
him I’ll get hurt
instead ,
He is my
moonflower ,
Amorous during
the night hour ,
but wild like
moonflower.

Thank you for reading!