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Poem
I was a very enthusiastic gardener, who loved being surrounded by beauty,
Like the songbirds that visit cherry trees, with a taste for something fruity.

I adored the familiar blooms, but held a fascinated interest in the unusual,
And I engaged in interesting conversations, about each exotic rare jewel.

My emerald garden was a large one, and it was almost completely sunny,
Like pearly smiles that come so easily, whenever something seems funny.

My job allowed me to work from my home, and this granted flexible hours,
And it allotted me considerable time, to spend among the precious flowers. 

The seasons did their habitual turnaround, like dancers whirling on a floor,
Twirling outwards farther, faster, before going back to the start once more!

My garden drew a lot of attention, and it was the talk of the neighborhood,
For something so big and beautiful, tends to contribute to the greater good.

Once in a while a strong urge impelled me, to obtain an exotic new bloom,
As boredom with sameness and the usual, leads one to redecorate a room.

So, one golden Saturday found me, purchasing exquisitely pretty flowers,
Like thoughtful acts of loving kindness, that bring happiness by the hours!

I made the purchase at a roadside stand, and its location I quickly forgot,
Like one who's certain they have lost their heart, yet is unsure of the spot.

The flowers were so different and lovely, I could hardly wait to plant them,
And they were also multicolored, as the sparkling colors of precious gems.

But, when at last I got them home, I saw I'd lost the planting instructions!
Should I plant them in sun or shade? I sure could use watering directions.

I could not even recall their name. It was something difficult to pronounce,
As a moon joins sunshine at cherry dawn, unexpectedly and unannounced!

All I could do in such a situation, was to give the matter an educated guess,
Like summer rains, watering indiscriminately, in hopes of blooming success.

Alas, the beautiful flowers wilted, while the plants stayed healthy and green,
But eventually new buds were seen, yet never unfolded to summer's dream!

Like a total absence of bronze sunshine, on a planned day of a park festival,
When a special something that is missing, makes the entirety unacceptable.

One night I lay tossing and turning, and finally arose to sit out on my porch,
As the burning sun tells the moon each evening, that he is carrying a torch.

The summer garden was tranquil and warm, with a breeze fresh and gentle,
But I was soon to get a big surprise, on a June night, previously uneventful.

A portion of the fragrant flower beds, was bathed in creamy, rich moonlight,
And I saw my rare blooms had opened after all, only in the hour of midnight!

It's small wonder that up until now, I had not seen the lovelies in full bloom,
For they were denizens of the starry night, only appearing under the moon.

After that, I took to staying up late, solely to visit with my precious flowers,
Which only blossomed each midnight hour, as if in affirmation of dark powers!

And I was enchanted with my blooms, so interesting and beautiful and rare,
For if some opposites never attracted, then lives would be lived in despair!

My lovelies continue to bloom perennially, but only in the midnight hour still,
When the sweet dreams go wandering, amidst the birdsong chills and thrills.

From these experiences I'd gained, a deeper appreciation of beautiful night,
Which holds a different kind of charm, like autumn leaves, hued and bright!
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