Death of a Day (Self-Parody)
On this day, the sun set in the west.
I cried for the death of light –
craved the waxing moon
beacon of quiet dreaming,
yet it was a waning crescent,
like my tearful heart
yearning for the next full moon.
Its ivory face shone through my window,
beaming brilliance
its sea smiling,
perhaps the eyes of a living being
or an apparition
revolving across the sky,
until its sunrise death.
Sandra