The Moon with finely chiselled face
awoke to see his ancient foe
dress up with gold-embroidered lace
to execute her morning show.
Quickly he looked to earth, straight down
into the calmest, clearest lake.
It mirrored back his lunar frown
and made him look like patty cake.
He wondered then what folks preferred,
the choice was Moon, or else the Sun,
his vision was a little blurred,
as always when his shift was done,
when suddenly the Sun said  'Luna,
I think you're handsome and a tease,
go cover up under your doona,
it's daytime now, my little cheese.'
And Moon went to the land of dreams,
not very happy to be labelled
a dairy product, but it seems
that he became badly  disabled
in his next dream and that the Sun
had helped to warm his ailing soul.
And when it all was said and done,
the Moon was healthy, happy, whole,
and since that day they joke and tease
each dawn and dusk, foggy or hazy.
The Sun still says 'my little cheese',
but in return he calls her  'Daisy'.