Selene and Endymion
He slumbers,
resting on grass soft as down,
in eternal sleep’s soft bondage.
As Sun pulls up his weary horses,
gold-flecked manes toss
shimmering dew drops to cling to rose flesh
a coat of silver as the day rests.
Underneath Night’s shroud, he now lies,
a vision unseen but for one
who sits on moon’s cradle,
to sigh
and warm in Night’s chill splendour.
She gazes upon the downed bed,
for here her eyes will forever rest
aching and adoring
upon fair Endymion’s eternal face.
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