I hear the waves lapping at the shadows my feet make
In the sands along the beach
The seaside catwalk
The sandy revenue.
I open my eyes only to see the stars causing an earthquake
Attempting to teach me
Teach me how to frolic
Through the frosty black and blue.
I feel the grass beneath my fingerprints, ready to take
The darkness that has decreased
Beneath the dock
Hailing the coming of many short moons.
And I sigh as I turn to fake
A smiling, careless face to tease
The dastardly, harrowing crock
That is the seasons’ repeated view.