A Poem the Moon Whispered to the Ocean

When night descends in hush and hush,

And daylight’s dreams begin to blush,

The sky pulls close its velvet shroud,

And stars emerge, serene and proud.

The ocean lies with breath held deep,

A cradle vast where secrets sleep,

And overhead, so full and round,

The moon makes not a single sound.

But silence has its song, you see,

Especially sung across the sea,

For when the world forgets to speak,

The moon and ocean start to meet.

The moon, a queen in silver thread,

Leans low above the sea’s cool bed,

And in a whisper soft and slow,

She tells the sea what stars won't know:

“Dear Ocean, keeper of the night,

So restless with your dreams in flight,

You carry grief, you carry gold,

And stories lost, and legends told.

You kiss all shores with longing’s lips,

Yet never pause your trembling hips.

Why do you chase and crash and flee,

As if you’re running still from me?”

The ocean stirred, her waves awake,

And answered back with gentler quake:

“O Moon, I am not one but all—

A mirror cracked from Heaven’s fall.

I take the pain the world won’t hold,

I keep its warmth, I clutch its cold.

I rage because I’ve heard men cry,

I roar for ships that said goodbye.

I rise and fall to your soft sway,

And yet you’re always far away.

You shine on me with beauty vast,

But never touch—not present, past.”

The moon grew dim, her glow turned blue,

Her voice like mist, both soft and true:

“My love, my light, my ocean bold,

You’re more than just the tales you hold.

I guide your tides, I know your heart,

Though always we must dwell apart.

I see the wounds you try to hide,

The ghosts you keep beneath your tide.

And though I cannot dip below,

I shine so you are not alone.

Each ripple made from distant pull

Is proof our love is ever full.”

The ocean wept in liquid tears,

A rhythm shaped by countless years.

She reached with waves that tried to climb,

Yet failed each time, each tender time.

“Then let me hold your light awhile,

Reflect your grace in fluid style.

If I must ache, then let me gleam,

And house you gently in my dream.

I’ll carry whales and wandering boats,

I’ll hum your name in seaborne notes.

I’ll wash the shores and greet the sand,

With lullabies shaped by your hand.”

The moon beamed soft, her glow reborn,

And watched her ocean swirl and mourn.

She whispered still in silver thread,

To soothe the waves and calm their dread:

“Each night I pen a poem to you,

In beams of pearl and skies of blue.

And though no hands may hold this song,

It lives where tides and stars belong.”

And so the night flows gently on,

A hush between the dusk and dawn.

The ocean hums, the moon replies,

With whispers strung through sable skies.

They’ll never touch, yet ever be

Two souls in love—moonlight and sea.

Bound by a pull both soft and wild—

A lover's ache, forever styled.

So if you stand where waters gleam,

And feel the hush between your dreams,

Know there’s a poem in the air—

A vow of love beyond compare.

Not written down with ink or pen,

But murmured once, and then again,

Each time the moon begins to rise—

A sacred truth between the tides.