On the sand I found you, battered by the waves.
A miracle destroyed by the fearsome Moon’s slave.
But in my palm, though limp and languid, your beauty still did shine —
So I sat to grieve your death while the surf sang of your life.
Of how you used to flit and float just outside his reach —
And how he longed to hold you in a place beyond light’s breach.
For such a lonely sea was enamored by your spirit.
And if only he could touch you, he thought he might find respite.
I sat immobile to watch the droplets bead,
On silken sails that had once flown free.
And as the waves lapped at my thighs —
I knew nothing justified this demise.
This spell was broken by a flutter so meek —
I wept a salty stream down my pale, wind-crisped cheek.
For I realized you were better for whatever death brings,
than grounded to Earth by wet wings.