The sun cries with sadness,
The searching of her moon is endless.
Circles like a carousel, following his footsteps.
The Moon’s weeps are shallow and tears line
The floor and the clockwise rotations continues
Horses primed and painted
Going up and down
Flashing their baby blue saddles
As the chase continues.
The hum of their music continues
But the magnified sounds of tear drops
Smacking the floor
One by one lining the melody.
With tired eyes, Sun sighs.
‘Maybe another day.’
Nothing but deafening silence reaches his ears
The roar of her screams is silenced by the tear.
Her voice comes out so small,
So quietly,
That the sound waves lacing the air miss it.
The moon rests his eyes,
“Maybe we’re meant to stay half a world away.”
Sun lays her restless body in her bed,
“I suppose that you’re correct, Moon. But we both know I’ll try again tomorrow.”