THE MOON AND THE SUN

In the wisps of the sunlight,

as it leaves of the air,

the golden daisy,

the eastern stare,

 the chargers of night

gallantly pursue

the prize of the west -

the eater of dew.

But soon the dark army

must pitch up its tent.

Silver fires flicker

in the eyes of the spent.

The chase before night

again proved futile

and soon they must see

Diana’s sad smile

at the thought of great victory,

of conquering her prince,

who strayed at time’s dawn

and ran ever since.

Oh his brilliant face,

waxed and all bright,

and since his departure

her world’s been of night.

But all is no matter

for another day arrives

and Diane will reach

for the light she strives;

and with the palest blush,

on days when time’s amiss,

then she holds him short

for a brief eclipsing kiss.

Then - what spectra glow

in the heavens above:

a day of joy in all the woe,

of the moon and sun’s lost love.

02/02/93 (my first true poem written now 25 years ago!)