The whispers we hear
The soft gush of the dear
The splash of water
All year round the quarter
Riding the sky at a really slow pace
Severed about, yet the glory face
The lunar sphere, our dear Moon
Once it smiles then gobbles up soon
Off the coast the oceans' spectacle
The tides, mighty and incredible
Commanded by the Moon, the Knight of the night
That leads all herds of the fluid to might
Appearing more of a grin or of meager smiles
Yet urging the blanket of aqua across miles
The full Moon looks upon all while we dream
And yet myth has it it reigns the crazy with it's beams
That's why they go lunatic
That's why the stuff about ghosts in the attic
Comes from minds of illogical blabbers
That climb the countless lunacy ladders
But yet, the lunar sphere has it's way
It goes about without delay
Inspires a few, grants delight to the other few
It tics the potent waters, and goes with the sparkle of dew
