With ebony waning,
night’s lid closed slowly …
his lashes brushed my cheeks.
Silver dew, soulless eyes, he seeks
those who cannot sleep.
Soon he would reek
as the sun shone, peeked.

Historic night leaves tears
to nourish misty day …
though it’s his wish to stay.
Silver locks seal his eyes tight, shut
deep in a rut--
lacking in guts—
to come back … thrust.

Each night lives but a day,
then folds in decay
his dreams unfulfilled, void.
Silver specks is all he leaves behind
to dwell in minds.
A casket, sad,
night was a great lad.

Day pulled ebony’s plug;
he went chug-a-lug
down the drain of life
as if he’d liquefied, sliced, knifed.
Not cut to stay
he’s no say
when he comes … goes away.

Ebony’s born anew …
just like me and you …
stars, afterbirth, trailing behind.