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My child we know the truth too soon
These fragile flowers of the moon
May only by the night-time bloom
Within your sacred, cherished room

By day the garish light of sun
Will hide their beauty, every one
And all you dreamed you had begun
Like gossamer is hidden spun

My child the angel’s pure delight
Grows secret gardens in the night
Drunk on beauty, dressed in white
The purest of such perfect sight

So lost in dreams you might yet stray
And lose this sight ere break of day
So only this of you I pray
With flower moons a moment stay

(c) Helen Valentina 2015, All Rights Reserved