Sonnet 3

The pale blue moon is flirting through the clouds.
It pulls ever so slightly at the waves.
We'd talk beneath its glow, in misty shrouds.
And like the moon, you'd slowly drift away.

I once believed that you were both so close.
At least in pictures that's the way it seems.
I guess that shows how little I must know.
For both you and the moon escape my dreams.

But I will try to slowly pull you in.
A grain each time, as tides retrieve the shore.
And as the setting moon turns red and dim;
It also seems much lager than before.

        And should our slowing spin halt your depart,
        You'd shine-at night-no brighter than a star.