Once, throughout the stillness of a sultry summer’s day
I slept, until the stars appeared and moon came out to play.
Then as she rose resplendently when sister sun had set,
I rued the dying of that day with ruthless, raw regret.
For I had spent it senselessly, let hours, like sand, all seep.
My eyes, I’d closed so carelessly, so spitefully in sleep.
So blindly did I blunder when I let it sail away:
that wasted world of wonder of a sacred summer’s day.