By tommievelez
What a lovely shape floated among the wisps of misty dew!
It was circular yet not a circle; it was spherical yet not a sphere.
Ashy dust gathered past it's dwelling and into the restless children's minds.
Fallen upon the sleepless hours lay the cryptic night's solace,
Of feigned kindness, and insolent sneers, and though the moon gave no response,
Children gathered to listen to the washing tides.
With aging minds and progressing time, one grew weary of the melody from the splashing shore,
And none from the silent light.
He yelled -- (Oh, how he yelled! What awful voice struck in the solitary night?)
He cursed upon this trance, and scowled in the blinding dark,
Then rose to his sandy feet,
Making way to hs closed-out suite.
The other children were quiet when the first, then second, then third left bitterly--
For they wished not to disturb the wave's melody and the moon's soundless voice.
With the passing interval of seconds, the children forgot to mark the time.
One, mad with fustration, threw a pebble at the glowing moon.
What waves erupted at the dissonant splash! What fright this caused the young child!
What were the other children to do as the waves engulfed the choking child, the red-faced boy?
Missing one, they sat as the boy was swept towards the spiralling sea,
As the seaweed caressed his neck and muffled his screams
For they wished not to disturb the waves' melody and the moon's soundless voice.
