the sea wrinkles, extends
beneath her moon glow, awaiting
its lustrous return
keening with melancholy ache
of wave soaking midnight sands
unreflective as night's obsidian
hand - snakes along his features
casting a shadowed aura
across his liquid expanse
lulled into silent slumber
while the moon fore-sakes
her nightfall promise
stretched alongside
his ivory form, awakening
breathlessly, tremulously, he
discovers her as moonshine
on outstretched palms, bathing
in her resplendence
was it all summer night's splendor,
(quicksilver to his mind like the moon
beckoning his misbegotten sea)
or had she - at last - returned
to solace his lovesick dream?
Was she a metaphor or a goddess--no one knows, not even he.