Whisper to her the break of day

My love, my friend,
In poetry as in life,
Every line can turn into a tangent.
Even the littlest harbors a twist.
Besides, the sun is an orange.

Look, the dawn is born of the night.
I see its brilliance
Flood the sky.
I see its fervence
Pool honey on your face.
I see trees and rocks and seas and shores
Float upon your crystal gaze.
That, and no more.
It is simply another day.

Onwards, then, why regret
The way our love has gone,
If it has gone the way of dawns,
If our hearts it has pulled
From nights inconsolable,
If our eyes it has suffused
With light so tender,
By which we now behold
The vistas of our parted lives.