HUNTED:

Day stalking night with its arrows & its bow,

Waiting in the wings to aim, shoot & throw,

To pierce the onyx dark with its darts of light,

Aims to rend the shadows of its helpless plight.

Night on its knees & weeping her tears of dew,

Surrenders to her arch-enemy of the day anew,

Knowing she has lost the battle of mighty skies,

As the new leader sun opens heavy-lidded eyes.

The battle starts anew when the sun yawns tired,

And moon decides it´s time for a new night sired,

Now no arrows needed & no violent war waged,

The mother night´s take over is so gently staged.

With a soft gentle nudging of her pink rosy dusk,

Day disappears softly, leaving used & empty husk,

No hard cruel words, just the harsh light blunted,

So it is, prey dispatched by the femme well hunted.