"It is time" a glowing sun announces with a smile.
"Are you sure?" says a dejected moon.
"Surely, she replies. When the last man gets off the train and you hear it's horn, that is my time, like it is every night. Have you since forgotten?"
"No" his reply is simple. The craters around his mouth grow as his silver lips upturn in a regretful smile.
The Peregrine Review: Vol. 33, Article 12.
Available at: https://mosaic.messiah.edu/peregrinereview/vol33/iss1/12