Mallow

One afternoon the fragrant mallow, pale
harbinger of sultry summer nights
was blooming in a hidden hollow vale.
I, a creature painted black and bright
passed it by with scorn. I followed trails
of gaudy hues, seduced by neon lights.
You would have seen me starving, swallowtail
adrift on city streets, stained black with blight.

Retrace my path, and see the hawkmoth's flight
as evening gathers over mallow, sweet
though colorless. He drinks her nectar right
from tender lips. She is no shallow cheat,
unlike the dark marquees and silent heights
that tower over shadowed hollow streets.

Collection available! Knocking from Inside