Downcast

Before the dayless day ends,
Knee-deep water rescue me,
Cool down my feet
that I may kick the moon
and smite the lonesome cloud
to hurl its tears tonight.
Where are the bonzai trees
atop the homemade bamboo bench?
Did the unmeant genial insults
solidify their fresh breath
and frost them in their dreams?
The frangible white and red roses,
that took most of the luxury,
encircling your serene place,
coarsely drunk to sun's rays;
perhaps not placed on best angles.
Oh man-made waterfalls
on my wonder-filled garden,
the muddy sky went out of focus
and everything now turns pale.
Why does "great matters" battered?