the dawn was
waving its
morning greetings
at me.

the dusk is
far from sight.

the sunrise was
singing the luna's
song, still.

the morning breeze
had such ambience
with lesser interests.

noontime approaches
and touches
her skin.

the afternoon sunshine
fell to the grounds,
ghastly indeed.

dusk haunted her
down and asked
her to die.

but the evening
moonlight caressed
her softly,
gently,
quietly.

the midnight satellite,
with its relentless
love for the sun,
seem to be too frail,
too feeble, and blind.

but in truth,
he was all
that mattered,
when she wasn't.