An ivory flower shimmers in the crescent of
the moon's radiant glow.
I approached to gaze upon it.
To smell its fragrance.
To feel it's delicate texture upon my countenance.
But when I was about to,
the sun arrived,
invoking the moon to seek shelter behind God's apron.
Thus causing that wonderfully exotic flower
to dry, crumble, then turn to ash.
As my tears washed away its remnants.