If what they say is true
Comes the sun in morning blue
Night must give it's moon way
To help deliver this pulse called day
The day, today, amid lost treasured sorrow
Bereaves the night to become tomorrow
A benevolent price for mere strands of gold
As the silver moonlight is cleverly sold
And what about the clouds flying in distant plush
aloft in noon, mystic blush
Would they not succumb to such sweet desire
From serenading harmonies of midday choirs
The days music echoes its rapt enthrall
To bring a crimson eve before the darkest fall
Wandering feathered flights sail majestic dunes
As sunset prevails the afternoon
And sun and moon dance amongst their cosmic tears
To spin minutes into days, days into years