What becomes of a flower when no one is looking

I wonder, does it remain open and fresh

Immortal and unblemished in the

Sparkling light of the moon

Or does it change, transform

Lose the pretty petals, set aside sweet nectar

Don moth brown wings and take off

Into the night, running away from the moon

Does a flower curl up into itself when

It knows that it will not be seen, will not be noticed

Close its petals and kiss them goodnight

Release the weight of maintaining pristine quality

What does a thing of sight do when it is not seen

A thing of beauty that, for a moment, isn’t admired

What do you become where you are unmade