Everyday is but time managed by the sun and the moon,
and their clocking-in cards

Who steals the moon?
or does it just fall?
Fleeting softly of its own accord;
if I could tie it with string,
I too could be swept soundly abroad

The Sun asked the Moon
"What are you looking for?"
The Moon replied
"I'm trying to find something I can gravitate towards.
Every night I search oceans to find companionship,
until at last I can feel whole again"

The sand asked the sea
"How is it you can love me?"
The sea replied
"As simple the stones that you are,
You are my rock my loyal friend
and when I waver.
you give me much needed assurance.

It's important you know,
not to break bread with everyone.
Some are made of sour dough,
and some live just to make it.

The soft crackle of sand
pail under moonlight,
lapped up by an ocean's returning tongue,
time and again.
Waves hello.

Look above.
You will see fireflies in plain view
yet static and beyond the the reach of hand,
then I remember the promenade clearly
where yours once found gaps in mine.
Ambling parallel to the shore, with a grip
the sea could not part,
but the word 'forever' could not anchor.
Waves goodbye.

'I know hope' knows hope
from understanding
no hope at all

Gentle is the night
after a day's boiling over,
now bathed in small hours
drifting closer to morning.

Weight on my mind
falling softly on eyelids.
A passenger for a pillow
and a meal for the blankets.

...and gentle is the night
when no words are spoken,
for when day break calls,
you again will be broken.