the brooding night lay quiet
in the stillness of arid shadow
and wayward shapes amidst
the soft fluffy moonlit clouds
stripped down to wondrous
pieces of surrealistic attire
sired by nights of wild fancy
these nights were made for us
we the hopelessly captivated
suns of a witless universe
we whose  entrapped light
would not glow or glimmer
even as the dark screamed
its innocence; and in all this
was none so sorry and poor
as the hapless hopeful few