As the ocean breeze gets high for morning,

How enchanting it is to be near adorning.

With the passing senses, we dive deeper

For blazing fire to unleash the cheapers.

Night changes from slow gleam to faster,

Moon bows down in front of the master.

Heart, the traitor— makes a turn of pool,

Shakes the little man to engrave the core.

Monologue of stitches woven deems a cry,

I brush my fingers over the scattered sigh. 

_________________

Tried couplets!