She was mother in the morning
and fire in daylight
and unfulfilled at dusk.

She was passion at the noon hour
and neediness at sundown
and resignation in the darkness.

She was suggestive at the setting
and pain in the blackness
and regret in the heart of dark mornings.

She was harlot at dawn,
Harpy at mid-day,
Ill-conceived throughout.

She was sluttish in afternoon haze,
Coquettish in evening daze
and death when the stars came out to cry.

— February 2017