Ocean, do you love the moon? The flux and flow of your body
caught in an endless pattern?
Too many times we have evaded your embrace.
Would it be different if we could not taste the salt of your tears?

Your echo taunts shorelines, reaching for a terrestrial lover
unbound from the pockmarked sky,
where your roots yearn to travel and entwine themselves
with lonely evergreens.

Atmospheres collect the thin tendrils of your leaves,
repossessing your timeless keepsakes.
Do you converse with ghosts to alleviate
your fractured heart?