Cosmic Twins

The sun a golden penny, the moon a silver dime.
I, the sun, with welcome, warming light
that wakes the dawn from starving night.
I rise with shining courtesy
and burn through the leaves their gaiety.
And I, the moon, the stark contrast in might
that trembles from such darkless sight.
When I slink to silent symphony,
my brother sings to sunny euphony.
Sometimes I seek in my reflection
more than just a blue inflection.
Sometimes I wonder where I would be
but oft' the frondes of heat discolor me.
If sunshine is the common bond we share,
the awful light discordant with us there;
rainbow's splendor in fair beauty's prism
is the wretched, polychromatic prison.
I miss the fraternal tempest lost by time,
we, sun and moon, can only meet in rhyme.
I, the moon, encased in the convalescent stars on high.
And I, the sun, blanketed in pillowy clouds as they go by.