In tropic humid night a flower grew,
the breeze and slow perception whispered change,
if flowers rained and told us what they knew,
all leaves and little buds would rearrange.
Forsake us not the light or dawn at day,
or feel the pain of folding flowers bright,
for they do never turn or fade away,
they keep you safe, my angel child of night.
So bless your petal blades on stems to sail
beyond the garden's mortal shell and sand
and plead us to the gaze of eyes as pale
as flowers frail, and fall into His hand.
And love will stay, as tropic flowers do
and bloom at night, as memories of you.