The jasmine and the moon

The moon has risen in the shrouded sky,
Covering the grass below with its pale white glow.

Deep in her heart, she feared,
That she was no longer loved....
Or maybe she was never loved...

Just like the jasmine that blooms with his coming,
Exuding her scent through the night,
In the vain hope that he might realise,
How truly she loves his simple heart,
Only to be disillusioned, when he silently slips,
Beneath the distant horizon,
Not caring so much, for her shrivelling petals.