And I'm tired of writing sad poetry, and I'm tired of telling sad tales.

I want to listen now

to Moon's

lonely whisper to

her saltwater lover.

The one

who froths and foams

and dances

on Sandy Earth.

And I hear the sky cry

for her Salty vixen is always

daring Moon Maiden

to come down and dance.

Sand promises to smooth

Moon's craters

and polish her luminous surface

if only she'd come down for a drink.

But she can't.

And she sings

sad poetry and tells sad tales

while she watches her Ocean

make love to Sand.