Dawn,
Like a strumpet
In magenta,
Steals furtive glances
At Morning’s misty mirror.
Batting coquette’s eyes
At
She covers her thin golden gown
With Noontime’s turquoise cape.
When Twilight comes to call,
She flings on ebony furs
And toasts from Evening’s starlit cup,
Then she drunkenly fumbles home
To change her nighttime costume
And pass out of day into dark.