The one I had lost without a clue
emerged in the sky when it was the night
in the lost one's sky.
It was a crisp and clear
sky of a cheer
when I spotted the presence
of the lost moon's orb
behind a leisurely, lingering cloud.
I was desperately seeking a chance
to pick up a quarrel with the truant moon,
Now in the robe of the ascetic grey
renouncing the world in a gloom;
and now in a worship of a poison ivy
spreading the garb of her diversionary fangs.