Luminacy
The sun has run off to the stars.
Like a widow in search of her wedding ring
it seeks its lost lovely splendour
amidst the diamonds in the sky.
It should look here.
Beauty that had only lived before in the sun
now nestles in the mysteries of her eyes
and play of her thought
upon the liquid glory of her face.
The day grows weary and begloomed
when she's not in the room;
the light grows dim without her whim
and the night is thus exhumed.
The stars echo with silver shrieks
like the sound of a woman's heart breaking
while she, and me, and heaven's envy
sit lost in stolen luminacy.
DH