Days sing themselves to sleep with growing silence.
Hauntingly slow comes Diana in hopes of
lingering sounds of live wonder and singing.
Her tears surprise the nocturnal creatures still
sat on benches with loving late night talking.
Looking up for the stars, they keep feet on land.
Or in boughs — upon leaves shaking with night-time.
Strain though she may, the night holds sound close to earth,
and the lights strike too hard to quell any doubt.